


Mon Amour

by AmaterasuOfTheSun



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Family Drama, Flirting, Flirty Marquis de Lafayette, Fluff, Historical References, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Minor Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Tags to be added, True Love, check it out anyways?, im sorry, lafayette/reader - Freeform, not really - Freeform, this isn't reader insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaterasuOfTheSun/pseuds/AmaterasuOfTheSun
Summary: "Je m'appelle Marquis de Lafayette. Et toi, ma petite lionne?" Lafayette asked her, stepping forward. Genevieve snorted in response. "Call me yours again and I'll show you how much of a "lionne" I can be, Lafayette, sir."





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our main character is introduced.

_June 9th, 1774_

 

“Look at them,” simpered a tall, freckle-covered girl. “So handsome, so young, so  _eligible.”_  She sighed then, shaking her head. “And so willing to die.” The people she spoke of were the red-coated soldiers who had just passed by, walking at a leisurely pace down the cobblestone street, their boots kicking up once-settled dust behind them.

“Hush, Bethy!” Genevieve scolded with a tight frown. Bethany was the most social of the Summerton sisters--and she wasn’t even out in society yet! “Don’t talk like that!” Death was the new hot topic for her and her friends.

“But Vivi,  _everyone_ has been talking about it! I heard that there has even been talk of…” she clasped her hand over her mouth with a little gasp. “Oh, I just can’t say!” Genevieve rolled her hazel eyes.  She knew how over-dramatic her sister could be. She was just milking this newest gossip for the strongest reaction she could get.

“Oh no, Bethy, you must tell me!” Michelyne was the youngest sister--for now-- and a two years younger than Bethany at age twelve. She was also the most gullible of the family.

“Well, you see, Mrs. Page--you remember my friend, don’t you? The one with the pretty red hair? I wonder how she get’s it so curly...Oh! Yes, at the market last week when I went to pick up some new embroidery-- it’s such a pretty pink color. Salmon, they called it--but yes, Mrs. Page told me that she had heard from her husband that there has been talk of, well...” She paused for effect. Even though Genevieve considered herself above gossiping, not even she could deny that she was caught in her sister’s trap. Though she was good at hiding it, she was just as keen on the new gossip as anyone else. “I heard that there has been word of a revolution.” At these words, Genevieve’s expression instantly hardened.

“No!” Michelyne's eyes went wide with shock and curiosity, but Genevieve was as livid as their father would be if he knew the younger girls were speaking of this patriot rebellion.

“Bethany! Don’t you dare fill your sister’s head with that nonsense!” she hissed, grabbing her sister’s arm tightly. She herself knew that revolution was a distinct possibility in the future of the colonies, but was smart enough not to mention it to her family. “No one is rebelling against King George III, God bless his soul.” She pulled out a fan, flicking it open.  _God, these two never let me have a moment’s rest._ “Ruling a country is a hard thing to do on your own! He has enough problems as it is, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, like deciding what to unfairly tax Americans on next,” a male voice said, obviously speaking loudly enough that they would hear. Genevieve’s grip on her sisters tightened as they tried to turn around and get a good look at the eavesdropper. Or,  _eavesdroppers_ , as the case may be.

“Well! Violence is  _never_  the solution, girls. Only uneducated immigrants and poor, fatherless bastards believe such nonsense. But the Good Book says we shouldn’t judge these lost souls. We should feel sorry for them,” she shot back, the picture of a perfect British young woman. She knew her rebuttal was a little harsh, but she was fed up with the whole conversation, which was bound to get her into trouble.  She felt comfortable in her victory, and heard Bethany gigging beside her, as they continued on.

Until, of course, she felt a strong, rough hand on her shoulder. Four men stood behind her, all but one of them taller than she was. The smaller two looked annoyed, one of them looked amused, if not confused as well, and the one who had grabbed her shoulder looked a bit upset. Genevieve felt a pang of regret at her words, but it was quickly overpowered by her fear of the man.

“ _Excuse_ me--”

“Yes. Excuse you. I’m sorry, but we must be on our way,” she countered quickly, slipping out of his grip and trying not to let them see that she was nervous. The younger girls had melted behind her, their brightly colored skirts pressing against Genevieve’s own as she faced the men.  Her palms had quickly grown sweaty; she didn’t know what to expect from these rebels.

Now, it was unusual for girls to be without a chaperone, especially in a downtown place like this--far from respectable. It wasn’t unheard of, though, and the journey had been short enough that Genevieve hadn’t felt it necessary to send a message to some far off cousin or uncle. The three of them had just been heading uptown to meet their eldest sister and her husband for a play, though she doubted that they would end up doing anything but gossip and embroidery. Angelina, the eldest sister, was twenty-four and pregnant with the first of the next generation of Summerton lineage. She complained that she never got out anymore, but in reality, it was she that chose to stay indoors. The last time Genevieve had stopped to visit, on the invitation of going to the park, they had ended up sewing three new baby gowns instead.

“What are a bunch of pretty ladies like you doing out all alone? You could get hurt. Some poor, bastard, immigrant might overhear you,” said a short, attractive young man. Genevieve’s nose scrunched.

“Is that a threat, good sir?” A curl of hair twisted around one finger, a nervous tick, she took a step backward, her sisters shuffling with her. In response the men formed a loose semi-circle around the Genevieve and her sisters, who held onto her with apprehension. She wished she could do the same, but was the oldest present, and knew it was her responsibility to protect her siblings.

“It could be. Unless, of course, you apologize for your words,” he retorted with a smile. That smile had broken hearts before, the young woman was sure, but his personality was a big enough turn off that Genevieve was able to scowl.

“Perhaps  _you_ should apologize, sir! Eavesdropping is considered rude, though I forgive you. You will not offend me, sir, with emotional and senseless arguments of an uneducated and uncultured  _patriot.”_ Well, that was an assumption. That he was uneducated. Not that he was uncultured. Genevieve knew the latter for certain.

Bethany let out a gasp of surprise, and it was only when the man’s eyes widened that Genevieve realized she had finished her thought outloud. Swallowing in fear and licking her dry lips, she stood her ground. Then one of the men let out a laugh.

“Laurens!” the insulted man growled, his face red. The other, Laurens, didn’t stop, and soon the taller one, who had grabbed Genevieve’s  shoulder, started to chuckle. The fourth man, who had not spoken yet, looked confused still, but began to smile as his friends laughed. The man Genevieve had insulted looked annoyed, but his lips stretched into a thin smile.

“I wonder if you open those legs as often as you open that mouth.” The laughing died down almost instantly. Genevieve was taken back. His insult, phrased like a question, sounded more like an invitation and the innuendo wasn’t lost on her. She didn’t find it nearly as amusing as he seemed to though, and was infuriated by the triumphant smirk that had replaced the smile on his face. His abhorrent insinuation that she was, well, a whore, was unfounded and gravely offensive, though Genevieve begrudgingly admired the way he had dismissed her opinion while also ridiculing her assumed personal life.

“Monsieur!” The confused one was French, apparently, and he looked a bit scandalized.

“I-I beg your pardon, sir!” Genevieve choked out, fanning her red face. She wished a witty insult would come to mind so that she might make a jab back at him. But alas, she was at a loss for words, and so he continued to smirk, ignoring the shock of his friends.

“That’s right. So now's the part where you run along back to Daddy before you get some mud on your heels--”

“Excuse me!” Bethany cut him off, looking quite fierce.  “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, “Take that tone with my sister ever again.” She took a deep breath, eyes burning with fury. “We will be taking our leave now. It has been of the utmost displeasure to meet you. Good day.” This time it was she who grabbed her sister’s arm, marching away, shoulders squared. Michelyne trailed behind, looking worried.

“What did he mean, ‘open your legs’?” she asked innocently, once they were out earshot.

“Nothing, my dear. Don’t fret about that.” She nodded slowly, still looking worried. Genevieve felt terrible that her sister had had to witness that disgraceful dispute.

“I can’t believe he said that! Ooh, it makes me so mad! How dare he say that about you! What does he know, anyway? I’m not worried about a rebellion at all, not if it’s being backed by bastards like that!”

“Bethany!” Genevieve exclaimed, her sister’s language enough to snap her out of her stupor. “Don’t say that word.”

“Well, you did.” She pointed out matter-of-factly, and blush bloomed on Genevieve’s cheeks.

“You should not repeat everything you hear.” Sticking her nose in the air, she drew ahead of her siblings once again.

“But I was really brave wasn’t I? Those men were scary...if they do fight against England, will we leave? Is there really going to be a war?”

“No, of course not. Don’t listen to the rabble. Especially don’t let Father hear you repeating it!” Genevieve almost felt bad lying to her, but it would be better than having to watch her face their father’s anger later on.

The head of the Summerton family was a Loyalist gentleman with considerable funds. His family had always been a part of the English court, and he was far from eager to part with that privilege. His daughter's were often told that their Grandfather’s cousin's son’s daughter had married some prince or another, and that perhaps one day they could have a similar honor.  Genevieve didn’t much care, but her father felt it was very important that his family's legacy was continued. Either way, his daughters were expected to behave with the utmost of care and be sure not to embarrass their father, or their family. This lead to an extraordinarily good education, a privilege not many girls their age enjoyed, and depressingly few opportunities to use it.

Lost deep in thought of how to bribe Bethy into not mentioning the confrontation to Angelina, Genevieve almost missed the sound of footsteps coming up behind her.

“Mademoiselle!” Unable to help it, a knot of dread formed in her stomach. Without turning around, she pulled out a small bag, which she knew contained enough coins to keep her sisters busy for an afternoon, at least. The satin pouch jingled as she handed it over to them.

“Why don’t you take Michelyne and go buy yourselves some new hair ribbons?” she offered generously. Bethany glanced over Genevieve’s shoulder, obviously worried.

“But Vivi--”

“Bethy, I saw you admiring Ms. Finch’s hat last Sunday--Don’t deny it! I’m sure there is a nice store somewhere around here. Go on.” Genevieve mustered her most encouraging smile. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“ _Mademoiselle_ , can I have a moment of your attention,  _s’il vous plait._ ” The man caught up to Genevieve, as her sisters turned to go. Giving her elder sister a final worried glance, Bethany grabbed Michelyne's hand and the two of them were on their way. Genevieve turned around, lips pursed.

“Yes?” He looked a bit flustered by her curt response, but she was unmoved. His friends were loitering further away, looking bashful. Her frown became a sneer. “Is there something  _else_  you need?”

“Ah...yes.  _Mademoiselle_ , I wanted--”

“ _We_ wanted!” One of his friends shouted from where they were very obviously eavesdropping again. The Frenchman rolled his eyes.

“Yes.  _We_ wanted to  _excuser pour_...Ah! Apologize, for Monsieur Hamilton’s behavior. It was uncalled for.”  _⑴_

“Well. Thank you for that.” When Genevieve did not say anything more, he glanced over his shoulder. Looking for reinforcements, perhaps. No one stepped forward.

“Do you...accept?” The Frenchman finally asked. Genevieve smiled, and the Frenchman looked relieved, blushing and refusing to meet her eyes.

“No, I do not,” she simpered pleasantly. His expression fell.

“ _Pourquoi_ _?! Nous e_ _xcusé non_ _? Je ne comprends pas!_ ” he cried, looking upset.

“ _Je ne dois pas me expliquer à vous_.” Genevieve crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised.

 _“Vous parle francais?_ ” He seemed caught off--guard by her response in his mother tongue, which made sense. Most colonists did not speak anything other than English.

“ _Oui. Je le parle un peu._ ” Though she didn’t speak much, Genevieve’s mother had imparted on her some knowledge of the language. Enough to get by, if the need ever arose.  _⑵_

“Erm...want to let us know what’s going on?” The one called Laurens had finally gotten the balls to join the conversation. “Not all of us can speak French, you see.”

“Well, your friend asked me why I had not accepted your apology--quite passionately, may I add--and I proceeded to tell him that I owe none of you an explanation.”  Genevieve unfolded her arms, waving her fan again.

“Okay...but why didn’t you accept?” he pressed. The others of the group were coming over now, curious as to why everything was taking so long. Genevieve checked over her shoulder to make sure her sisters weren’t coming back, then sighed.

“Did I not just say that I do not owe you an explanation? I don’t even know you. Any of you!” She threw her hands up in aggravation.

“Ah. I’m John Laurens. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He suck out a hand for Genevieve’s, and smiled.

“That’s not what I meant,” she lamented, but gave him her hand anyways. He shook it, as if she were a man; an equal, and Genevieve pulled away at the unexpected grasp. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, she just hadn’t expected it, was all.

“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you but…” Rubbing her hand awkwardly, she looked down at the ground.

“ _Je m'appelle Marquis de Lafayette. Et toi, ma petite lionne_?”⑶  Lafayette asked her, stepping forward. Genevieve snorted in response.

“Call me yours again and I’ll show you how much of a “ _lionne_ ” I can be, Lafayette, sir.” She held out her hand, but unlike Mr. Laurens, Lafayette kissed the back of it. The two other men were now standing nearby. The one who should have been the one apologizing was staring at the ground sourly. Instead, the man who had stopped Genevieve earlier stepped forward and gave a little bow.

“Hello. I’m Hercules Mulligan, at your service,” he said, not taking her hand at all. He had a pleasant smile, which she returned. Then, finally, she looked at the fourth man. He was shorter than Genevieve, but not by much.

When he didn’t say a word, she began to wave her fan again, feeling awkward just standing there. She turned back to the three decidedly more friendly men instead.

“Well, then! My name is Genevieve Summerton, daughter of Lord and Lady Summerton” Genevieve then turned to Marquis de Lafayette. “ _Merci pour les excuses._  It wasn’t  _you_  I’d expect an apology from, though.”  _But I will have to be the better man, or woman, regardless._ Swallowing her pride she looked at the man whom had begun the whole unsightly delay and said, “I’m sorry for any offense I may have caused you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, good day sirs.” Genevieve turned, glad to  wipe her hands of this whole affair, when she felt an unwanted hand on her shoulder. Again.

“Wait.” She did. “I’m sorry for insulting you. Even if you deserved it,” he muttered, looking still at the ground. She raised an eyebrow.

“Alexander!” Mr. Laurens said grabbing the arm of his friends coat. Genevieve frowned in disapproval, realizing that she would have to be the better man. Or, woman, as the case may be.

“Well. I accept you apology ‘Alexander’. As much as  _you_  don’t deserve it.” And with that, she turned away, going to find her sisters and put this whole thing behind her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----  
> Wooh! It took me a while to get this chapter up! It would've taken much longer if not for my amazing Beta, anjumstar on ff.nt, helping me edit everything! I hoped you enjoyed. I know it's not totally historically accurate, but I tried! (Also for the sake of story telling some things needed to change a bit~!) I'm already working on chapter two, so hopefully that won't take long!  
> -Amaterasu  
> ______  
> ⑴ “Apologize for--” (Excuser pour)  
> ⑵“Why?! We apologized, right? I don’t understand!”  
> “I do not owe you an explanation.”  
> “You speak French?”  
> “Yes. I speak a little.”  
> ⑶“My name is Marquis de Lafayette. And you, my little lioness?”  
> ~Mademoiselle basically means a young lady // Is used for unmarried women, I believe, unless you’re trying to flirt with an older woman. ;D //  
> ____________  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve makes another trip into the city and loses her hat.

_ **June 9th, 1774** _

“I don’t understand why it took you so long to get here!” Angelina cried. “I’ve been pulling at my hair waiting for you three. Why didn’t you bring a chaperone? Where were you?” She was a mess of worry, hugging all three of her youngest sisters, before pushing them away in frustration. 

“I’m sorry, Lina, but we there were just the most beautiful hair ribbons! I had to buy some! You know how Ms. Finch had new ones at church last week? I can’t let her get a husband before I do! Oh, the shame would be awful.”

Bethany was good, Genevieve had found out, at twisting the truth in ways she deemed fit without actually lying. Michelyne, though not the sharpest knife in the cupboard, was happy to just smile and nodded her head, occasionally adding in an “Oh, yes,” when her sister paused. Genevieve just played with the ends of her plaited hair, something her sisters had been nice enough to do, adding the lovely blue ribbons they had picked up for her at the ends, helping to further sell their story. 

“I don’t believe even that would take so long! You were supposed to come straight here! If father finds out you were alone….”

“If Mr. Summerton finds out what?” Angelina’s husband, a man named Thomas Livingston, asked. He was nice enough, and came from old money. “You girl’s keeping secrets?” His wife sighed, melting into his embrace, her arms resting on her noticeable stomach. She was about six months along and complained often enough that no one took her seriously any longer.  

“These girls are keeping secrets for sure. From  _ me _ !” Genevieve, Bethany, and Michelyne shared a knowing look. “See! Right there!” Bethany reached forward and put a hand on her sister’s arm.

“Lina, dear, maybe you need some rest. Growing a baby must be very difficult. You must be tired because I assure you we were only out for hair ribbons. But, we did get you some too!” Bethany held up a long roll of thick yellow ribbon. “It would make a lovely trim on that new calico dress you’ve been working on, don’t you think so, Thomas?” Thomas smiled. 

“Everything looks lovely on my wife.” Angelina gave him a withering glare, but took the ribbons anyways. Her angry expression quickly turned into appreciation. 

“Oh, velvet? You shouldn't have!” she breathed, clutching it to her chest. Thomas was loving as could be, but a bit overprotective of his wife; she hadn’t been out shopping much lately, which was one of her favorite pastimes. “Fine. You’ve won me over for now, but I’ve got my eye on you three!” Then, with a satisfied “Hmph!” she strutted inside. Laughing silently between themselves, the younger girls followed her and her husband inside to prepare for the play.

  
  
  


**_June 24th, 1774_ **

“Genevieve? Darling?” It had been a week since Genevieve had been out in the city, and she was once again stuck at home, painting, sewing, and drinking tea. She couldn’t stop thinking of all the better things she could be doing with good weather like this. Anything would have been better than being stuck in a stuffy house with two pregnant women. 

“Genevieve! Your father is calling you!” her mother said in a hushed tone, startling Genevieve back to reality. Merida Summerton was with child, again, and slightly further along than Angelina at seven months. 

“I’m sorry, Mama. Excuse me.” Genevieve set her embroidery down, heading out of the sunny room and into the corridor towards her father’s office. She loved her father to pieces, and knew he worked hard, but she wished occasionally that he would call her for something that wasn’t an errand.

“Father called you too?” Genevieve looked up a Jeanette, the third oldest sister in the family. Though she was twenty years of age, she was still unmarried, and wanted to be a nurse someday. Genevieve doubted their father would ever allow that, but Jeanette was not discouraged. She tended to favor her books over her dresses, and prefered the sisters of the men trying to win her hand over the men themselves. 

“Yes. I wonder what he needs us to do for him now.” Jeanette smiled a bit at Genevieve’s comment, a little crack in the wall she put around herself. It was nice. Genevieve didn’t get to see that smile very often. Stopping outside the door, Genevieve straightened her hair and Jeanette fixed her glasses before they entered the office. 

“Papa?” Charles Summerton was a handsome man, well-liked by the public and his family, with a considerably influential hand. When most people heard the name, it brought to mind lavish attire and political disputes. Now, though, he was hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously onto a piece of parchment. “You called?” Glancing up, he smiled, setting his reading glasses to the side.

“I think it is high time the two of you went outside for a change,” he announced, clasping his hands in his lap. Genevieve blinked, and Jeanette looked startled. “You’ve been inside all week. It would be a crime to keep you two pretty, young doves cooped up any longer! Why don’t you go down to the city?” Genevieve was unsure of what to say. Of course, a day off from the boring normality of sewing and tea would be heavenly, but the request was unexpected. She smiled, about to thank him, but Jeanette spoke first.

“We’re not dimwits, Father,” she said, and a cold silence filled the room. Genevieve glanced at her, confused. Perhaps she was a dimwit, because she had no idea what her sister meant. Their father put his glasses back on, and the smile faded from his face. 

“I never said you were. I just think it would be nice for you two to go out for a while,” he replied, shifting through some papers. He was no longer looking at either of his daughters. 

“Father, we are not your precious little birds to be paraded around and married off to the the highest bidder!” Her voice grew higher towards the end of the sentence, sounding less like a statement and more like a plea. Their father was unphased. 

“Jeanette, I am the head of this household and I can do as I choose.” Genevieve hadn’t noticed how tired he had looked when they first entered. Perhaps this was not the first time he had had this argument. “Genevieve, don’t you want to go out? See a play, shop for some new ribbons, or whatever you girls do?” he pleaded. Genevieve glanced between him and her sister. She did want to go out, even though she realized now that her father wanted her to go out so she would meet eligible bachelors. She wondered who he was planning to have escort her.  

“I do, Papa,” she said quietly, and though she didn’t look, Genevieve could feel her sister’s eyes boring holes in her side.  _ Traitor.  _ Their father’s smile returned.

“Thank goodness! I’ve called up James to escort you. You like James, don’t you?” But he’d already turned back to his work, no longer caring about her answer.  _ I was correct,  _ Genevieve thought to herself, a small triumph in the uncomfortable situation. James Cabots the son of an old family friend. He was older than Genevieve, and attended King’s College. She’d only met him a few times, at parties and the like, but he was nice enough. 

“Well...I’ll wait in the parlour...then,” she said awkwardly as she turned towards the door. Jeanette shoved past her, and Genevieve saw tears in her eyes. “Jeanette-!”

“Leave me alone!” Jeanette ran down the corridor and disappeared from sight. Apparently, Genevieve would be heading out alone. 

Changing her dress before she left, she was now clad in a deep blue silk dress with a pattern of tiny white flowers spanning the cloth. The hem of the skirt was trimmed with black, and framed her décolletage in frothy, white lace. This dress was Genevieve’s favorite, but she didn’t wear it often. Usually she was uncomfortable with the generous neckline, which was lined with lace, bring attention to her décolletage, but she didn’t feel like worrying anymore today. Bethany had begged her to let her fix the bustle; it was just slightly too small to be in fashion, but Genevieve liked it that way. It was easy to get on, not too much hassle. She thought it looked becoming.

“Ah! Genevieve, you look ravishing!” James was quite popular with ladies and a bit of a player. Genevieve liked him though. He was very kind to her. “Is that a new hat? It’s quite beautiful.”

She smiled bashfully. “No, it’s Bethany’s. When she heard I was going out, she altered it to match my dress. Thank you, though. I’ll be sure to tell her you like it,” she said, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes. Unlike most of her sisters, Genevieve had been cursed with straight hair since her birth and had to sleep with curlers in. She didn’t have freckles though, something she thanked God for weekly. 

“Shall we go?” Genevieve smiled, taking his arm. The sun outside was shining brightly, but a lovely breeze rustled her skirts. Some birds could be heard twittering from somewhere on the estate as the pair made their way to the carriage. It was lead by one large horse, the breed of which was a Suffolk Punch. “Hello, Barnaby,” Genevieve said, smiling as she allowed him to smell her hand. He was a huge beast with warm, reddish brown fur and a lighter mane. She’d known him since she was a child. “Do you have any sugar cubes?” Genevieve asked James, regretful she hadn’t brought any of her own.

He shook his head. “But the sooner we leave, the sooner we can get some.”

Genevieve smiled and nodded, climbing into the carriage and getting comfortable. He climbed up after her, shutting the door behind them. 

“You picked a lovely day for an outing,” he commented, glancing out the window. “It’s a wonder none of your sisters joined us. Was Jeanette not home?”  

“Ah, she planned to but wasn’t feeling well,” she lied smoothly.

He sighed. “Pity, that. Give her my regards.”

“Of course.” There was silence. She picked at the ends of her gloves nervously. 

“Was there anything you wanted to do while we’re out?” he asked, trying to rekindle a conversation. 

“Father suggested I go look at some new dresses, but really, I have more than enough. Maybe a play?” Genevieve mused, a small smile gracing her features. “Ooh, or maybe the library. I haven’t been in forever.”

James shifted in his seat. “I have some business to attend to, so perhaps I will meet you back there,” he said, looking out the window again. 

“You’re not coming?” Her father would be annoyed to hear of that. She was sure he expected James to be with her. 

“I’ll only be gone for a little while--an hour, tops.  You’ll be fine on your own, won’t you?” It was true, she didn’t really enjoying having a chaperone watching her all the time; she wasn’t a child any longer. But the idea of being alone in the city again was a bit upsetting. 

“Yes, I’ll be fine. It’s only an hour, anyways.” She gave him her most courageous smile, and he returned it.

“That’s my girl.” The city was growing nearer; the carriage was filled with the noise. Genevieve found it pleasant, in a way, and turned to watch the people going by. It was funny to imagine everyone's conversations--where they’d been or where they were going. 

“Well, this is my stop!” James said, and she abruptly turned to look at him. 

“Here?” It wasn’t that she was one to judge his choices but….the two of them weren’t in the best place in town. It was rough and gritty, someplace she rarely went on her own. 

“Yes. The driver will drop you off by the library. I’ll see you in an hour.” He swung open the door and hopped down onto the cobblestone street. Then he winked, blew Genevieve a kiss, and turned, walking with purpose to, well, wherever he was going. She sat back, miffed.  _ Perhaps I would’ve liked to come along! What then?  _

It took almost no time at all for Genevieve to reach the  library, and she was glad that she had. The bumpiness of the stones beneath the wheels made her stomach churn, and she had spent most of the time curled up on the seat since James departed . 

“Miss, we’ve arrived!” called the driver. 

“Thank you for the ride, sir.”

He smiled, and tipped his hat to her. “For you, anytime, miss. I’ll be back here at 2:00 o’clock, if that’s alright?”

She nodded happily, and then began walking towards the large library in front of her. Though, as soon as Genevieve heard the clip-clop of the vehicle pulling away, she turned sharply left. It was a lovely day, and anything that went wrong could be blamed on the absent James. There was no way she’d waste such a perfect opportunity inside! It would practically be blasphemy! Humming under her breath, she pulled out her fan, trying to hide the smile on her face. 

Perhaps her father had been right. Maybe she did need a little time outside. The warm breeze could be felt through the thin satin of her gloves, which was a small mercy. It was hot enough that she was beginning to perspire in her dress, and she wished she had chosen a hat that wasn’t quite as heavy. 

It was almost as soon as that thought appeared in her mind that the wind picked up, yanking the object in question off her head.

“Ah--!” It swooped above the people, Genevieve sighed, jogging to keep up. “Excuse me--I’m sorry! Ah, coming through!” People gave her dirty looks as she chased after her sister’s hat. Soon the wind died down, and the hat began its descent, drifting back and forth across the sky. She stood, waiting.  “Come  _ on _ !” Watching, Genevieve stood at attention, ready to catch it. Fortunately, or perhaps not, she didn’t have to, as a tall young man reached up, plucking it from the air. He bowed. 

“For you, M’lady--Wait...Genevieve!?” Her eyes widened. This couldn’t be happening. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. ” No way. There was no way. Genevieve spun around and bolted like she had the hounds of hell on her heels. She fet a little pang of regret that she hadn’t snatched her hat.  “Hey!” 

There a moment where she almost thought she got away.

“Someone! Thief! That girl! She stole my wallet!” She heard him yell, and a general rumbling began among the crowd.  _ That absolute ass _ . She tried going faster, pushing people aside in a very unlady-like way. She could not let him catch up with her. Forget the hat; she was worried for herself now! 

Looking around ahead of her for somewhere to hide, Genevieve’s eyes alighted on the door of a tavern. Somewhere she’d never be caught dead in. Perfect. Swinging to her right, past a group of chattering women. 

“Excuse me, pardon me!” she exclaimed, still hearing the sound of shouts behind her. The bar doors swung open, and that noise died down as they closed behind her with a creak. The noise inside died down too, at the appears of a flushed, windblown lady. Her cheeks flushed. “Erm...good afternoon?” The chatter resumed quickly and she made her way forward, apologizing to everyone her skirt brushed against in the crowded space. The lively music was something she was not accustomed too, and the scandalously dressed serving maids made her blush.

“Ay, missie, looking for someone to show you a good time?” One man with a thick mustache called out to her. 

“Oh. No, thank you,” Genevieve said, shifting awkwardly around him.

“Eh? What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” another man asked her.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that is none of your concern.” She tried to push past him, but he stood up. 

“Really?” he asked, his alcohol laden breath washing across her face. 

“Leave the lady alone!” Someone called from a nearby table. The man scowled, and grabbed her wrist.

“Unhand me, sir!” she demanded, outraged. “Just because you were raised by pigs doesn’t mean you must act like it!”

His face twisted. “Boy, do you talk a lot. I can think of some better uses for that pretty mouth of yours,” he snarled.

“I-I-I,” she stuttered, and for the second time that week, she was left speechless. The man leaned closer, and she felt sick. How could this be going on--and in a room filled with people, nonetheless! Suddenly the man stiffened in apprehension, and turned just in time to see the fist that was about to hit his face. She gasped in surprise as he landed on the table beside her with a groan. Some people began to yell.

“I thought I asked you to let the lady alone,” her savoir growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The larger man grunted, and pushed himself up, eyes glinting. 

“You gonna fight me, pipsqueak?” It was true, this man was beast compared to the nimble man who had hit him. The smaller one grinned, and began to roll up his sleeves, regardless. 

“If I must,” he replied, before springing forward and hitting him square in the face again. The larger man stumbled back, not so cocky anymore. He was on defensive as others in the room began hooting for a fight. A door slammed somewhere out of her line of sight, and everyone quieted. 

“I thought I said no fighting in my bar!” someone shouted, pushing through the thickening group surrounding the men. He was short and pot-bellied, but a couple wisps of white hair still perched atop his head.

“No fightin’, sir. Just playing around,” the smaller of the offenders said with a grin, stepping away. His opponent was holding his nose, blood leaking from his fingers. The bar owner glared at him. 

“You. Get out of my bar.”

The man spit out a nasty yellow glob before turning and shoving his way to the door. The the little, pot-bellied man turned and disappeared. Genevieve was thoroughly disgusted and confused at this point, and regretted her decision a moment before she remembered why she had run in here in the first place. 

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Genevieve turned back towards the man who had helped her and away from the door. 

“Yes. Thank you for...You!” Both of their eyes widened as they met, and each recognized the other. He was one of the young men who had harassed her the other day: Lauren or Lawrence of something. Today was just full of surprises. He scratched the back of his head, something she’d seen him do last time they’d spoken. She prayed it was just a nervous habit and that he didn’t have lice. 

“Jackie, a drink for the lady, please.” The busty, dark-haired bartender winked, and disappeared between the tables.“So...what brings a respectable girl like you to a place like this?” He asked, pulling out a chair at the table beside her. She sat down, and he took a chair for himself.

“It’s a long story,” she said, trying to dodge the topic. He grinned, clearly not getting the message.

“Great. I’ve got time to waste.” 

“Of course,” Genevieve replied dryly, looking around the small room. “I suppose it can’t hurt.” Laurens, she’d remember his name, watched her interestedly. “Where should I start?”

“At the beginning,” he replied, cheekily.

She snorted. “Smart. Well, Mr. Laurens, I am number four in a brood of six, to be seven.”

“Thats nice--”

“And we are all girls.”

“Oh, your poor father,” he lamented, and she glared at him, clearing her throat. “I mean...Tell me about them?” The irritable girl nodded.

“Angelina is the oldest. Twenty-four. She’s married and expecting, too. Madeline is twenty-three, and she is also married. We don’t see her much, since she lives in London now.” She looked at him, and he seemed to still be listening. “Next is Jeanette, she’s twenty, but not married yet. That shall be relevant in a moment. Then there is me, who,” she held up her left hand and daintily wiggled her ringless fingers, “Is not married. After me is Bethy--I mean Bethany at fourteen, and Michelyne at twelve. You had the pleasure of meeting them already.” Laurens nodded and grinned.

“They seemed like fun,” He encouraged her. She really couldn’t understand why an absolute stranger wanted to hear her story, but  _ c’est la vie _ .  

“They’re more work than they're worth, the two of them. Now, after them there were two more babies between them, but...neither made it. They were both girls, by the way.” 

“I’m sorry,” he began, but she shook her head.

“There’s nothing that could have been done. I pray that my mother delivers a healthy baby this time, a boy, if God would have it.” 

“Amen,” he said, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Before she could begin to speak again, the lady, Jackie, brought over a foaming mug a beer, and a cup of cider for Genevieve. Laurens tossed her a coin. 

“Thank you, ma’am!” he said, and she grinned.

“Any time!” She flounced off, and Laurens looked back at Genevieve. 

“Go on,” he prompted her, and she looked incredulous. 

“You’re not bored out of your mind yet?” When he shook his head, she shrugged, taking a sip of the cider. “Well, as you can imagine, my father is...eager to marry us off. I don’t blame him, but he isn’t very, well, delicate in his efforts. My sister, Jeanette, will be too old to be married soon and my father is panicking a little. He wanted to the two of us to go out with a family friend today. She refused, and here I am!” She said, sipping some more cider and happy not to talk. Laurens did not seem satisfied. 

“Where is this friend of yours then?” He asked, looking around, as though her escort would suddenly appear.

“James is...elsewhere,” she replied uneasily. 

“James? A man, then?”

“He is.” Her newfound friend frowned at her reply. 

“And he left you alone  _ here _ ?” Laurens seemed incredulous. 

“Ah.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “That he did not. I expect he still believes I am at the library,” she informed him, not meeting his eyes. When Genevieve did look up, however, he only looked amused.

“You remind me of a friend of mine,” He stated, taking another gulp of beer. “But anyway, how did you end up in this particular establishment?”

She sat there, silent. This particular answer was difficult to phrase without sounding like she was involved in unsavory business. After pausing a moment longer than would be natural, she said, “I am avoiding someone whom I had not expected to see while I was out. I had hoped, in fact,” she confided, “that I would not ever have the vexation of meeting said person ever again.” 

“What did they do, to fall out of your favor so?” he asked her curiously, but shaking her head, she dismissed his question.

“It’s not important. He did take my hat though,” she commented. “It’s not mine, actually. It is--was, my sister Bethany’s, but I suppose now we must both live without it.” 

“ _ Non, Ma Chéri _ , we cannot have that!”⑴ A silky voice said behind her. She squeaked in surprise at the whisper, his breath tickling her ear. Laurens laughed. 

“Lafayette! Good of you to join us!” Genevieve spun around to face the tall Frenchman. Glaring into his eyes, she huffed and crossed her arms. 

“ _ Monsieur _ , I believe I warned you against eavesdropping last time we spoke.” She crossed her arms, eyeing him coyly. He chuckled.

“ _ Oui, Mademoiselle _ , but how could I miss out on a moment of hearing your beautiful voice,”  he asked, pulling a third chair to the table and sitting down. “Now what was this about losing your hat?”

 

⑴ _ ”No, my darling,…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was about twice as long as the first one, and yet not as much seemed to happen! I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm already working on chapter three, so hopefully you wont have to wait long. 
> 
> -Amaterasu


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve retrieves her hat, and has some flashbacks.

**_ June 24th, 1774 _ **

 

“So, the plan is simple. You go back outside, make a fuss about something, and then point out this guy to us when he shows up. What was his name again?”

“Matthew. But Mr. Laurens, we’re not doing this. Thank you for trying to help me, but I think that this is a terrible idea.” Genevieve wrung her handkerchief absentmindedly in one hand, brow furrowed. 

“Don’t worry,  _ ma cherie,  _ we will get you your hat back.” The Marquis de Lafayette patted her shoulder comfortingly. 

“I don’t understand why you would want to help me in the first place! You don’t even know me,” she fretted, becoming increasingly more agitated as the conversation progressed. 

“Come on, Miss Summerton, it’ll be fine! Fun, even!” 

“What will be fun?” Asked a deeper voice behind the table, closer to the door than to the bar.

“Mulligan! Good of you to join us! We’re going to help Miss Summerton here,” Genevieve smiled weakly, “get her hat back.”

“No, no, no one is going to get my hat back. I don’t want to cause any confrontations--”

“Oh, if there is going to be a fight, we’d better wait for Alexander,” Mulligan interrupted. “He’ll be here soon. He was with me until he got into an argument with some loyalist on the way here.” Lafayette and Laurens nodded, confirming Genevieve’s suspicions that Alexander was, indeed, someone to be avoided. 

“No one is rescuing my hat, and no one is getting in a fight!” she said exasperatedly. 

“There’s going to be a fight?” Genevieve buried her face in her hands as Alexander joined their growing party. 

~~~

“Oh, please, someone help! I can’t breathe!” Genevieve gasped, her hands fluttering delicately around her waist. She wasn’t really fainting, of course, but still, the men nearby easily fell prey to her ploy, and flocked about trying to help her. “Oh!”

Matthew Daniels was a popular man in certain social circles. Born and raised in North Carolina, he subscribed to the same views one would expect; the south is superior and slaves were necessary.  Genevieve, like many New Yorkers, did not agree with this. She detested slavery, favoring fair wages and human beings over cheaper cotton and gin.  Morality, though, had never been one of his stronger traits.

“Genevieve, allow me to help you,” purred a smooth voice by bedside her.  _ Bingo.  _ The girl keeled over, praying that he caught her as she let her eyes fall closed. She felt warm hands around her waist, and repressed the urge to shriek or be violently ill. Coincidentally, an onlooker standing nearby--female, she presumed--screamed loud enough for the both of them. She forced herself to relax, her legs turning to jelly and her knees buckling as she went. Matthew grunted under her sudden dead weight, staggering backwards, and Genevieve felt some satisfaction. Even he was not indestructible.

“Someone help me--we must get her out of the heat.”

Genevieve felt another pair of hands on her, but her worry dissipated when she recognized Lafayette's voice. “Allow me, monsieur.”

 “Alright. My home is right over there.” That made sense, thought Genevieve. That’s why he was right there both times.

“Is there a doctor or someone who knows what to do?”

“I am a doctor in training. I know what I'm doing, I assure you. She’ll be fine when we get her out of this sun.” She was moving now, an awkward shuffle caused mostly by the volume of her dress and the stiffness of her hoops.  _ Oh, my poor dress  _

_ “ _ May I ask what your name is, monsieur?” Lafayette inquired. 

“Matthew Daniels. This girl here is a friend of mine. We’ve known each other for a long time. In fact, she was here to meet me today. We have business to discuss.”

_ Liar.  _ There was a pause, and the sound of a door closing. The chatter from outside became muffled.

“I am Marquis de Lafayette. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. ” Another pause. “Not to be...ah, I’m sorry I do not know the language well.  Présomptueux...em...Ah! Presumptuous. Not to be presumptuous, monsieur, but Miss Summerton had not mentioned that she had another  engagement after ours.”

Matthews grip under her arms tightened, and the room once more descended into silence. Genevieve was placed down on something soft; a bed of a couch or the like. 

“So you know her.” It wasn’t a question, and so the Marquis did not reply. There were footsteps walking away from her, and the sound of clicking. Then she heard the sound of drinks being poured, and another set of footsteps. “Have a drink.”

“Merci.” There was another clink, and then more silence. Genevieve could imagine what was going on fine, and was a bit wary. She’d done this stupid act in the first place so that there would be no fighting. She detested fighting. 

“Are you two engaged? God knows she’s old enough.” Genevieve stiffened where she lay, as the question that had seemingly come out of nowhere reached her ears. Unable to help it, a memory came to mind. 

_ “So, Miss Summerton, are you engaged?” It was her first ball, and the smells and the colors and the men all enchanted her. The man beside her was handsome, with his dark brown hair and bright eyes.  _

_ “Not yet, Mr. Daniels,” she returned with a smile, smoothing the soft yellow fabric of her dress with gloved hands.  _

_ “No? A beautiful thing like you?” She blushed. “Well, I’m glad I’m not too late, then.” Her cheeks darkened further.  They’d been talking ever since a mutual friend introduced them. Now the party was almost over. _

_ “I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, sir, but I’m afraid I must get going,” she said, truly regretful. He smiled and shook his head. _

_ “Don’t be sorry, my dear. May I walk you home?” They were outside now, the cold December air causing her to pull her shawl tighter around her arms.  _

_ “Oh no, I couldn’t ask that of you. I’ll be fine. It’s not very far.” _

_ “I couldn’t, in good conscience, let a beautiful young lady like you walk home alone.” He took her arm, cutting off any further protesting.  _

“...we are not.” Lafayette’s answer snapped her back to reality and Genevieve let out a little groan, bringing the attention back to her. There were footsteps, and they got louder as they headed in her direction. “I thought you said she would be fine when she got out of the sun.”

“Well, apparently I was mistaken.” He didn’t sound overly concerned about his faux pas. “I supposed it’s her corset, then. We’ll have to take it off.”

Genevieve hoped Lafayette was as offended as she was by the suggestion, because she was not about to let two men undress her for the sake of a  _ hat.  _ Even if it was Bethany’s favorite. Even if Lafayette was kind of really attractive and Genevieve wouldn’t really mind him seeing her topless…She heard footsteps heading towards her, and stiffened. 

“Monsieur, I don’t think it’s...mm...a good idea to undress a girl who is no longer..how you say...waking?”

“Awake?” Genevieve hated how Matthew sounded so condescending towards her friend. Then she realized she had started think of Lafayette as her friend, and felt a little jolt.  “And I’m going to have to, if you want her to start breathing again,” Matthew said, sounding irritated. Genevieve tensed her muscles, ready to sit up and put an end to the whole affair, when she thump, and then the sound of something hitting the floor. There was silence.

“Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle...I may have… made a mistake.” Genevieve opened her brown eyes slowly, and met Lafayette’s, and filled with dread. They traveled to his hand, where he held a large, heavy copy of the Bible, and then down, further, to where Matthew was lying, face down, on the floor. 

“You...you knocked him out,” she whispered. 

“Oui. I didn’t know what to do,” he answered, still clutching the large book. 

“You knocked him out with a Bible?” she asked him, wanting her confirm her suspicions.

“It was the only thing close enough that would work!”

“I would’ve just ‘woken up’, if he had actually started touching me!” Genevieve whispered exasperatedly. 

“And how was I to know this?” he whispered back, irritated. 

“Oh, I don’t know! Common sense!?”

“I-- _ Tu ne bouge pas!⑴ _ ” He ran a hand through his hair aggravatedly, looking around the room as if a reasonable answer to their situation would appear.  

“Of course I didn’t move!  _ J’agissais!⑵ _ That was the plan, wasn’t it? For me to pretend to be asleep?” 

“Je ne sais pas!”⑶ Lafayette shouted, forgetting to stay quiet. Matthew groaned, and the arguers both froze, staring for a moment, staring at him in horrified silence. It was Genevieve who finally spoke.

“I...I suppose we should get going then. Before...he comes to.” She looked up ruefully. “I doubt he will be any more agreeable.”

“ _Je suis complètement d’accord.”_ ⑷ He pointed to a large, decorated hat sitting on the table a few feet away. “Is that yours?” he asked.

Genevieve nodded and got up, careful not to wake up the man on the floor. Lafayette set down the Bible and quietly maneuvered around Matthew to pick up the item they had come to retrieve. When they reached the door, both of them turned back to look at Matthew again. 

“He is not a very nice man, mademoiselle,” he said gravely.

Genevieve shook her head in agreement. “No, he is not,” she replied, and then the two of them turned and exited the house, making sure the door was closed firmly behind them.

~~~

“You were standing outside?!” Genevieve exclaimed, furious, as she, the Marquis de Lafayette, John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton, and Hercules Mulligan made their way down the crowded street. She was wearing her hat. 

“Well, we didn’t want anyone accidentally walking in on something they shouldn’t be seeing,” Mulligan pointed out.

_ What did they expect was going to happen!?  _

“Yeah. I didn’t hear much noise though. Did everything go well?” Laurens asked, cheerfully oblivious. The Marquis and Genevieve’s eyes met in dismay. 

“ _ Ne nous laissons pas leur dire, _ ”⑸ Genevieve said to him quickly. Alexander, standing next to Lafayette and Laurens, raised an eyebrow, and she realized quickly that he also spoke French. He didn’t say anything though. 

“ _ Je suis complètement d’accord avec toi. _ ” _ ⑹ _ Lafayette agreed. 

“What--” Laurens began, but Genevieve cut him off.

“Everything went well.”

“Very well,” Lafayette agreed. 

“Yes. Perfectly.”

“It was very pleasant.” No one questioned their vigorous assurances, and they were perfectly fine with that.

It didn’t take very long for the group to reach the library. The men had insisted on walking Genevieve back, and Laurens’ merry chatter was enough to keep everyone entertained, leaving Genevieve to her thoughts. 

_ “Oh, don’t cry like you didn’t enjoy it.” The young woman was crying now, her dress and her dignity in tatters.  _

_ “I’ll...I’ll…” She sniffled, her shoulders shaking, and he sneered.  _

_ “You’ll what? You’ll tell? No one will believe you. And even if they did, what would they do? They’d pretend it never happened, because no one wants to marry a _ common whore.”

_ She sobbed harder, knowing he was right. How had this happened? How had she mistaken the predatory glint in his eyes as a bright sparkle? How had she allowed herself to fall prey to his pretty words? His tongue, after showering her in words of affection, had become as sharp as a weapon as soon as the party was out of sight; and his hands, once gentle and decent, had become harsh and rough. She lost more than her chastity, she had lost her innocence. She had lost the naivety with which she had seen the world only hours earlier.  _

“Miss Summerton?” Genevieve was startled out of her depressing memory. “You’re not really going to pass out, are you? You’ve gone rather pale.” Laurens chuckled nervously, and Genevieve forced a smile. 

“Oh, no. I’m fine. Seeing Matt--Mr. Daniels just brought back some bad memories, is all,” she said casually.

“You never did tell us what your history is with him,” Laurens questioned. Looking up sharply, she accidentally caught Alexander’s eye. He was looking at her curiously, but she looked away, not wanting him to read into her expression. Tugging on her hair, Genevieve bit her lip uncomfortably. 

“It doesn’t really matter. Best not dredge up old grudges,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. Picking up her pace, a bit, she moved ahead of the group, thinking it best not to let them see her watery eyes.

“ _ Genevieve!”  _ The sound of someone shouting her name took the attention off her though, as the library came into view. Unfortunately, so did James. It was comical, really, how red his face became as he stormed towards her. “Where have you  _ been!?  _ I--who are these men?” He seemed slightly intimidated by the people in front of him, and lowered his tone of voice slightly. 

“James, this is the Marquis de Lafayette, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Alexander Hamilton. Sirs, my escort, James Theodore Cabots.” This introduction did not quell James’ fears.

“Why are you with them? Why weren’t you at the library?” he demanded.

“I went for a walk and got lost. These...gentleman helped me find my way back.” Genevieve seemed to be doing an awful lot of lying on account of her newfound friends, she noticed. 

“Your father will be livid,” James hissed furiously. 

“Well, I suppose he’ll be livid with you, when he finds out you left me alone in the city to go downtown somewhere,” she replied, keeping her cool. James wasn’t really listening though, his face the unappealing color of ripe eggplant. 

“What will people say if they know you were unchaperoned with…” he stopped to count the group, “four grown men! They’ll think you’re a--a hussy!” Being called a whore twice in one month was a bit too much for Genevieve to bare, and her cheeks flushed with anger, and she opened her mouth to defend herself. Lafayette, though she did not see this as he was behind her, opened his mouth to defend her honor as well. Ironically enough, Alexander got to it first. 

“That’s pretty hypocritical, seeing as you just came here from a whore house.” All the blood left James face as he set his eyes on Alexander. 

“What did you say?” he asked quietly. No one else spoke, and Genevieve was befuddled by the new development. 

“I said,” Alexander repeated, “that’s very hypocritical coming from a man who just returned from the whore house.” Genevieve looked around, wondering if anyone else was confused as she was. (A brothel?  _ Her _ James?) Hercules looked amused, a small smirk on his face, and Laurens looked embarrassed, staring off into the distance.  Alexander looked smug, but Genevieve had a moment of satisfaction seeing Lafayette looked just as lost as she was. Perhaps it was the language barrier, but she felt better knowing she wasn’t the only one who was lost. 

“How…”

“Can you claim that that is not where you’re coming from?” James was, for once, speechless. “Your cravat isn’t tied correctly, and your buttons don’t line up. “ He pointed out.  Face red again, James hastened to rectify this.  “Nothing respectable goes on downtown anyway. Plus you have somewhat of a reputation at King’s College. I would know: I go there.” Genevieve supposed you couldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, but she would have never expected Alexander to go to the same college as James! “Loathsome, really, to leave a poor girl out all alone in the city, just to go visit some harlots. Imagine what her father would think about  _ that. _ ” 

And thus ended the conversation.

\-------

French:

_ ⑴ _ You didn’t move!

_ ⑵ _ I was acting!

⑶ I don’t know!

⑷I completely agree.

⑸ Let’s not tell them. (I’m not sure the grammar for this one if correct)

_ ⑹  _ I completely agree with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry this chapter took some time. I've just been real busy (working on an animatic.), but I'll try to work hard to get you new chapters as soon as I can. I hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> -Amaterasu 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeanette is inconsolable.

**_June 24th, 1774_ **

 

“Papa? I’ve returned.” Genevieve stood outside his office, peering nervously inside. James hadn’t said a word to her the whole ride back, other than to give her a letter for her father. After that, the carriage had just been filled with awkward silence. Genevieve was happy with that, she wouldn’t know what to say to him anyways. And so the two of them had started out opposite windows, faces red, watching the clouds go by. She hoped she didn’t see him any time soon. It would be terribly awkward.

“Oh? Jeanette, is that you?” Her father scrambled for his glasses and Genevieve smiled, glad the room was dim enough that he wouldn’t able to see the dirt scuffs on her skirt.

“No, Papa. It’s Genevieve. I’ve returned from the city…?” He slipped the glass frames in place, and turned to look at her.

“Ah! Genna, dear. How was it? Did James stay for dinner?” He peered past her, looking for him, and she winced, shaking her head.

“No… He had other business to attend to. I had a nice time though. James introduced me to some of his college friends.” One more white lie couldn’t hurt.

“Did he now? That’s lovely, dear. Perhaps they’ll be at the ball next month,” he said offhandedly.

“Oh, yes--The ball?”

Her father looked back over at her. “An invitation came while you were out. Bethany would probably be happy to talk to you about it.”

Genevieve nodded, then remembered she had a letter as well. “Here; James said this was for you,” she said, handing the envelope over. It was sealed with wax, and Genevieve couldn’t help but wonder what was inside. James had handed it to her silently when she had arrived at the house, before taking off without a word. She had hoped her father would open it in front of her and sate her curiosity, but instead he  took quickly, and shoved it his desk.

“Thank you, Genna. Now, why don’t you run along and ask your sisters about that ball?”

What Genevieve had expected was an onslaught of questions about her trip, or excited squeals over the balls. What she hadn’t expected was the tornado of cloth and ribbon strewn across Bethany and Michelyne's room.

“Vivi! Thank God, you’re back! This is an emergency!!” Bethany cried, leaping at her sister, her arms full of petticoats.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Genevieve said with a smile, but, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, Bethany shook her head.

“But it is! Cornelia’s coming out ball is in less than four weeks! It will be the first ball of the season, and you don’t have a single suitable dress!” she lamented. “I mean, look at you now! I’ve been begging you to get rid of that old blue thing for years!  And--is that dirt? You look like a country bumpkin!” Genevieve shook her head, eyeing poor Michelyne, who was sewing, half-underneath a green and white evening gown. She was immune to her sister at this point, after sharing a room for all twelve years of her life.

“Jeanette must have something I can borrow,” Genevieve argued matter-of-factly, walking across the room, picking things up as she went and beginning to clean up. Bethany made a sound of despair in her throat.

“Don’t even get me started on her! This is the _first ball_ of the _season_ ! This is how you will be remembered by everyone for months to come! You can’t wear something from last year! The fabric, the cut---the _bustle_!” Bethany yanked a bolt of white muslin out of Genevieve's arms, and set it down next to Michelyne. “Cut it out! This is important!”

“Bethy, I’m sure I can just do over one of my old dresses--”

“ _No!_ ” Bethany moaned, covering her face, and flopping down next to Michelyne. “What you wear this year will affect me when I come out! Plus, don’t you want to look beautiful?”

Genevieve sighed, and then smiled. “Fine. You can make me a new dress, if it will make you happy. As long as you make sure not to fall behind any of your chores, and please, keep it off your sister.” Michelyne looked over at Genevieve, nodded, and then went back to her embroidery.  

“Yes, thank you, thank you, _thank you!”_ Bethany gushed, hugging her sister. “Oh, I’ll have to make Jeanette one as well! You two are going to look _amazing_ ! Angelina will help too, I’m sure. _She_ understands the importance of these things. I’ll need to stop in town to pick up some more brocade, and a few bolts of that new calico--oh, it’s so delicate, Vivi!  You’re going to be even prettier than Cornelia--won’t that show her? Having a party on such short notice! It will be spectacular!”

Genevieve shook her head, setting down what she’d picked up in a neat pile on the desk, and left the room. This was going to be something, though Genevieve was worried more about the waste of fabric and the mess than what Cornelia would think of her new dress.

 

**_July 5th, 1774_ **

 

With only two weeks left until the ball, Genevieve had redone an older green dress she’d gotten from her mother--making the bustler bigger, and adding more fabric around the skirt--in case Bethany’s project  didn’t work out. She hadn’t seen it yet, but the poor girl barely left her room, aside from meals and the occasional errand.  Michelyne had been sworn to secrecy, and Angelina was happy to be in on the game, so Genevieve didn’t know what the outcome of Bethany’s experiment would be. She hoped her sister wouldn’t be too disappointed when it didn’t work out. It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t had much time to work on it, after all.

“Genna, dear, would you go get Michelyne for me? I believe she’s in the parlour,” Mrs. Summerton asked distractedly. She, Genevieve, and Patty, the hired help, were making dinner. Patty had been working for the Summerton’s for less than a year, but she was a swell girl. The mulatto daughter of a slave and her master, she had been freed when her mother died. The Summerton family paid her good wages with room and board, and she was allowed Sundays off. Patty was Bethany’s age, and very beautiful. Genevieve liked her, and no one could starch a collar better than she could.

“Of course, Mama. I’ll be right back.”

Genevieve set down the knife with which she had been chopping some carrots, smoothed her hands on her skirt, and and set off to find her sister.

The first place she checked, of course, was the parlour, as her mother suggested.

“Michylene?” Genevieve called softly, peering into the parlour, but no one was there. Turning, she began to make her way back down the hall, but froze when a rare and dreaded sound reached her ears.

Screaming. It was far too loud and went on far too long. Genevieve’s shock lasted a split second, and then she lifted her skirt and was down the hall in a flash.

“What’s going on--”

“You can’t do this to me!” Jeanette screeched, standing tensely in front of their father. He was backlit by the window, his expression hidden by shadows, but his fingers tapped nervously on his desk.

“Jeanette, you’re twenty years old, it’s not as though we have many choices--”

“No, no, no! Don’t make this about me. I won’t agree to this! You can’t make me do this!” she cried, growing increasingly frantic. Genevieve stood frozen, outside the room, not sure of what was going on, or what she could do to help.

“Jeanette, you have to understand the position I’m in! Our family is in debt! How can your mother and I bring another child into this world when we can’t even provide for the ones we have!?” he reasoned.

“So getting rid of me is going to solve suddenly all your problems? Why now? And what about Genevieve? She’s old enough!” Genevieve stiffened a bit, but still hadn’t caught on to what the conversation was about.

“Jeanette, he didn’t propose to Genevieve! He proposed to you! I’m sorry, but this is my decision.”

Jeanette stiffened, about to speak, but instead a broken sob escaped from her throat. She spun around, her blue skirt knocking a stack of paper off a chair sitting next to their father’s desk, and shoved out the door. Her eyes narrowed when they met Genevieve’s, but then they softened again and she began to cry in earnest, collapsing in her younger sister’s arms.  Genevieve, mind still racing, held her sister in her arms, stroking her hair.

“Come on, Jeannie. Let’s go upstairs.” Helping her sobbing sister, Genevieve glanced back over her shoulder to where her father sat, head in his hands, papers still scattered across the floor.

~~~

Dinner was a silent affair, with only the occasional clinking of utensils on the plates or a loud sniff from Jeanette with was usually punctuated with a sigh from her father. Genevieve never had found Michelyne for her mother, choosing instead to help Jeanette up to their shared room. There, she had done her best to comfort the young woman, stroking her hair and asking her to explain the situation. It was no small miracle on Genevieve's part, but with a lot of coaxing and gentle words she had found out that, as of that afternoon, Jeanette was engaged to none other than James Cabots.

Jeanette had maintained from a young age that she had no interest in marriage. Genevieve herself didn’t understand her sister aversion to the stronger sex, but each to her own. James Cabots, though; that was a surprise. She gathered the letter she had brought to her father was part of a longer series of correspondence, but didn’t reveal to her sister her involvement in the plot.  She was stricken enough already.

“So, Bethany, how is your sewing project coming along?” asked Mrs. Summerton, daintily scooping some baked beans onto her spoon. It irritated her to no end how far she had to sit from the table to bring the food to her mouth.

“Well, they’re almost done. I was thinking after dinner Jeanette and Genevieve could come upstairs and try them on, so I can make any last alterations before the ball!” Her knee bounced with excitement or nervousness, Genevieve couldn’t tell. Jeanette lips curled sourly.

“I’m not going to any b--”

“They’d be happy to, Bethany,” their mother cut Jeannette off, glaring. Genevieve swallowed. Their father hadn’t said anything the whole meal, chewing somberly at his food.

“Mama, may we go now? I’m finished with my meal,” Genevieve said, patting her stomach to emphasize her point. Her mother’s brown eyes landed on her, and she smiled.

“Yes, I think that is fine. Bethany, when you’re done, come show me how they turned out, won’t you? I’d love you see your work.”

Bethany was already halfway out the door. “Yes, of course! Come on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this took so long! Q~Q Me and my friends have a story writing competition every month, and this month's story ended up being really long, plus I had some more exams. State testing is next month, but hopefully that won’t get in the way of my story writing! Don’t forget to tell me what you think of this story!
> 
> Also! I forgot to tell you guys, I want to see how you imagine Genevieve! I haven't added any skin color and race or anything in the story because I thought it'd be fun to see how everyone thought she looked like. The only thing I think I said was that her hair was brown (and curly, maybe), but there are a ton of different browns, so that barely counts. XD


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genevieve attends a party.

Going to parties had never been one of Genevieve’s favorite pastimes, but she wasn’t opposed to them. She enjoyed the music and dancing, and she loved to gossip as much as the next person. This time, though, as she gingerly fitted herself inside the seemingly cramped carriage, she was a bit nervous. Other than the fact that Jeanette’s new engagement would be the talk of the evening, both of the sisters were wearing Bethany’s creations, which were sure to cause a stir.

That was not to imply they weren’t beautiful. They were gorgeous frocks, really. So gorgeous in fact, Genevieve was worried about all the attention they were going to receive.  

Jeanette’s dress was pale blue brocade, with white ribbon and gold embroidery. It had a bit of a train, and a large bustle which cinched around her tiny waist.  There was a row of white bows on the front of the bodice, drawing attention to the lovely diamond hung around her neck. It was strung on a dark velvet ribbon, and had been an engagement gift from James. It was beautiful on her, no matter how much she hated it. Genevieve was surprised that she had been able to convince Jeanette to wear it at all.

Genevieve had no such gem to compliment her own outfit, though she had no need of one. She was the summer to her sister’s winter. Clad in rose-coloured silk--also brocade--with trim the color of hot chocolate, she looked like she could have been coming from dinner with the king. The dress had a matching jacket with a lovely crimped back and the bustle was spectacular, falling down from her waist in a waterfall of ruffles and white embroidery. The bottom of the skirt was lined with large brown bows which matched the trim, a nice touch. Sheer lace hung between each bow, dragging elegantly on the floor when Genevieve walked. She loved it, except for the collar, which revealed more of her décolletage than she would have preferred. Unlike Jeanette, Genevieve had been blessed with considerable assets, something she’d always been a bit uncomfortable with. Still, Bethany had promised that the dress would guarantee the attention of the other sex, and at Genevieve's age, that was apparently not something one wanted to avoid.

Shifting her weight, Genevieve glanced across the compartment at Jeanette and James, who were sitting far enough away from each other that Genevieve and her giant skirt could have fit comfortably between them. Her sister flared out the window in fury, but bore it in stony silence. James looked surprisingly nervous, trying twice to begin a conversation. Jeanette would not reply. Additionally, things were still quite strained between him and Genevieve, so she was relieved--they all were--when the carriage rolled up to the Ashtons’ house. The lights in the windows stood out against the dark purple of the evening sky. Genevieve almost sighed in relief, straightening up.

The small group split up almost as soon as they entered the large estate. James was eager to parade his new fiancée around, and Jeanette disappeared faster than a cherry pie during Christmas dinner.  Quickly apologizing to Genevieve, James folded his arms across his chest, then dodged two large, colourful bustles, and was gone as well.

Making her way through the crowded house, Genevieve decided to go congratulate Cornelia and her mother on a lovely party. They thanked her courteously, but she didn’t miss the poisonous look in their eyes as they glanced at her in her dress. Clenching her gloved hands, she tried her best to ignore the whispers that followed her as she flitted from acquaintance to acquaintance, her eyes searching for a friend. She didn’t have many, being rather bookish and all. She’d always had more than enough sisters to keep her company, and because she’d been tutored when she was younger, she’d never had the advantage of meeting other girls at school. It wasn’t that she didn’t know anyone. Of course there were girls she knew through her father, and some people from church, but Genevieve didn’t know them nearly well enough to seek solace in them. So, she continued sticking to the sidelines, hoping to run into a more familiar face.

Bethany would be proud. Though Genevieve was trying to avoid it, she seemed to catch the attention of everyone she passed. Many men asked her for a dance, and yet her card remained empty. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy dance, and she didn’t want to be rude, but she was weary of men, and she didn’t know any of them well enough to trust herself in their care. She wished James was still with her. He was a pig and she currently felt great disdain for him, but she knew he wouldn’t try anything with her, at least. Perhaps after a few glasses of champagne she’d feel a bit more like dancing.

“How does it feel to be the second most beautiful person at this party, mademoiselle?”

Genevieve spun around to face her complementor. Catching sight of him, her lips pulled into a smirk.  “Only the second, monsieur? I do appreciate the effort, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

Lafayette shrugged, smiling and shaking his head.

“Well, who is the most beautiful person here, then?” she asked him curiously.

His eyes twinkled. “That would be me, of course.” He winked at her slyly and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“ I suppose I can’t disagree with that.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “You think so, mademoiselle? I was only joking, you know.”

Genevieve rolled a small piece of hair around her finger, and they stood in silence, having nothing left to say. “Are any of your friends here?” she asked after a few moments of awkward silence, smoothing the fabric of her skirt.

He shook his head. “No, Laurens was invited, but I believe he declined.”

Genevieve sighed. “Pity, that. My older sister is around here somewhere, hiding from her new fiancé James. You met him.”

Lafayette nodded, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Our mutual acquaintance, Mister Daniels is here as well, if I’m not mistaken. I saw him over near the entrance.”

Genevieve’s head whipped around as if Matthew was about to jump out from the crowd and attack her. After she was sufficiently certain he was not in sight, she turned back to face the Marquis, who said, “I was hoping to avoid him myself. After what happened, I think an encounter between us will be at least _somewhat_ unpleasant.”

Genevieve snorted. “Any encounter with him--before or after you knocked him out--would be unpleasant. _Was_ unpleasant.” She bit her lip, looking back towards the group of dancers uncomfortably.

“Je suis désolé. It sounds like you speak from experience,” Lafayette sympathized, putting his hand on her arm.⑴

She sighed, nodding. “There is no point in moping about it now. I’d rather just avoid him, if possible,” she said.

“Still, I’m sorry. It’s never--”

“Genevieve!”

Both Genevieve and the Marquis turned as Jeanette slid up to the group, cheeks red, possibly from running, but probably from alcohol. She was breathing hard and fanning her face, a small horderves in one hand. “Thank goodness I found you! I’ve been avoiding James all evening.” She glanced behind her, then rolled her eyes. “It’s terrible! Bethany really out did herself. These dresses stand out like watermelon in a pumpkin patch.” She sighed, then handed the horderves to Genevieve. “If James comes this way tell him I told you I was heading to the dining room with Miss Charlotte and her mother.” She glanced over her shoulder once more before saying, “If you need me, I’ll be upstairs with those lovely Caldwell sisters. They’re twins, you know.” She waved to her sister, then, seeming to notice Lafayette for the first time, gave him a once over. “Good evening, sir. Treat my sister well, would you?” And with that, she turned around and disappeared.

“She seems...interesting,” Lafayette said after a minute, tugging on the cream coloured cuffs of his shirt. He was wearing red jacket with a complicated, gold embroidered pattern, and intricate velvet buttons. There  was a also a white cravat tied around his neck.It was a rather extravagant outfit, not something any man could pull off, but he wore it well, looking quite regal.

“She can be a handful, but we get along. It’s too bad she won’t be home much longer. I’ll miss her.” Genevieve touched her forehead, wincing. “I think I need a drink. My head is killing me.” Lafayette, who’d been leaning against the wall, was up in a flash.

“I’ll get you something! Wait right here!” Then, like her sister had moments earlier, he disappeared as well. Genevieve groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and massaging her temples. The lively music began again and she winced, grinding her teeth together. Hearing footsteps behind her, she straightened her back, hands dropping to her sides.

“You’re back already? That was quite fast!”

“Hmm, sorry, but I’m not your pretty little Marquis, darling.” Matthew leaned forward, casting her in his shadow, one arm against the wall. “You look delicious in that dress, you know, but I think you’d look even better without it.” Donning a look of annoyance, Genevieve ducked under it. He sighed, turning to face her. “Where’s your sense of humor? I was just joking.”

“Well, you weren’t very funny.” He didn’t reply. “If you have nothing to intelligent to say, I’m leaving.”

“Wait.”

She did.

“ I really must speak with you.” He turned, facing her. She kept her back to him, crossing her arms so he couldn’t see her clenched fists

“We have nothing to talk about,” she said, dismissing him. “I need to go find my sister. Excuse me.” She started to leave, but her grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the little alcove she’d found. She swallowed a yelp.

“Ah, but we do, don’t we? Your nineteenth birthday is coming up, is is not?” Genevieve stiffened, and the two of them stood there a moment in silence, the animated music filling the space.

“I was just a child,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She could barely hear herself over the music.

“You were no more than a child than I.  I’ve done what I said I would, but time’s almost up. You can’t put this off forever,” he said, surprisingly gentle, pulling her closer to him. She spun around, tears in her eyes.

“And why not!?” she cried, yanking her arm free of him. “Why can’t I?!”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not up to you. You--”

“Is there a problem, monsieur?” The Marquis’ voice was cold and quiet.

Genevieve spun around, eyes wide. “He was just--”

“I was just leaving.” He gave the Marquis a little bow, mocking him. “Be careful. She bites.” He snorted, and walked off, head held high. Genevieve was proud that she was able to wait until he was out of sight before she started to cry.

“Mademoiselle, did he say something to you? Are you alright?” He set their drinks down on a small decorative table, next to a large china vase. His hands hovered near her, not quite touching her. He truly was a gentleman.

Genevieve covered her face with her hands, embarrassed at her display. Her shoulders jerked with each ragged breath she took in, trying to calm herself down.

“Here--do you need…?” She looked up tearfully to see Lafayette holding out a lace embroidered kerchief. She nodded, taking it from him carefully, and then blowing loudly into it. When she was done, she pulled it away from her red face. It was soggy.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why…I just started…I’m so sorry--” She was cut off, shocked as he began to laugh in earnest. After a moment she huffed. “Hmph. I know I wasn’t being lady-like, but you don’t have to _laugh._ ” She crossed her arms, pouting.

“Non, non, je suis désolé! It’s fine. You just looked so...um...con...confounded? Confused? It’s really fine. J'ai plus de mouchoirs chez -moi.” Genevieve eyed him suspiciously. “J’ai promis!”⑵

“Good.” She walked up to him, until his chin was almost resting on top of her head. He leaned back apprehensively, befuddled by their sudden closeness, but didn’t take his eyes away from her.  She could feel his breath on her hair, and she looked up at him, eyes wide. He gulped, and the music seemed to grow quieter, floating through the room in gentle waves. Then, reaching out slowly, Genevieve dropped the sullied handkerchief on the table behind them and grinned. “And _you_ said that _I_ looked confused!” He stared at her for a second, then his mouth twisted upwards and he began to laugh.

His laugh was nice. It reminded her a bit of her father’s, when she was little and he would still play with her instead of working for days on end. It sounded like a gentle earthquake, and, for some reason, it made her think of the smell of cinnamon hot chocolate after a long day in the snow. She wondered, briefly, if he had anyone back home in France who thought about his laugh the way she was now, missing him and waiting from him to come home. The selfish part of her didn’t really care. In fact, after her conversation with Matthew, she wasn’t sure she cared about much of anything anymore.

“Marquis de Lafayette, would you just kiss me already?” Lafayette’s eyes widened and his laughter died off almost instantaneously. But before he could say anything she continued, “I like you. And, as you said so eloquently before, we _are_ the most beautiful people in the room. Now, it’s late and my judgement is probably impaired right now so I doubt I will offer something like this again, so you probably want to think hard before you--”

“Tais-toi.”⑶ He was suddenly so close to her again, too close, and she couldn’t speak, and she noticed he smelled like hickory smoke and grass, and she hadn’t noticed that before, but now she was drunk on it, and he wasn’t close enough, and _why didn’t he just kiss her already_? She could feel his breath on her cheek and it was warm and she suppressed a shiver and she wanted to say something, but she was lost in his eyes and then--

Genevieve hadn’t kissed many men before, but Lafayette was different. His hands were careful, but confident, urgent, but gentle. He didn’t try and push her, though he probably could have gotten her to agree to anything right then and there. He treated her like fine china, like she was breakable, and it made her feel more beautiful than she’d ever felt before. Still, they were both out of breath by the time they snuck from their nook and out to the garden, away from lingering eyes, drinks forgotten and untouched.

 

\----

 

  
⑴Je suis désolé: I’m sorry.

⑵J'ai plus de mouchoirs chez -moi. J'ai promis: I have more handkerchiefs at home. I promise!

⑶Tais-toi: Shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *So, in real life, in 1774, Lafayette was only 17 years old and already married (and maybe with a child on the way), but for story purposes I’m making him 21 and single. :) Sorry and thank you for having patience with me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve goes back to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> This chapter gets a lil' bit...racy about half way through. If you prefer to skip it because of that, I will provide a summary at the bottom of the chapter. :) I promise it's nothing too bad though.

**_July 20, 1774_ **

 

_ Oh! Elle apprend aux flambeaux à illuminer! Sa beauté est suspendue à la face de la nuit comme un riche joyau à l'oreille d'une Éthiopienne! Beauté trop précieuse pour la possession, trop exquise pour la terre! Telle la colombe de neige dans une troupe de corneilles, telle apparaît cette jeune dame au milieu de ses compagnes. _

_ Je ne peux pas arrêter pensez vous, ma colombe. _

_ -Marquis de Lafayette _

This was the note that Patty had left on Genevieve’s desk to find when she awoke. Alongside it was a beautiful red rose, which she quickly placed in a cup of water so that it would not wilt. The Frenchman was quite dramatic, but it was expected, she supposed. She still wasn't sure what to make of their behavior last night, but reminiscing over the soft feeling of his lips was a pleasant distraction from her depressing conversation with Matthew. She'd hoped to avoid him longer but now her future was inevitable. A dreary thought, for sure, and one she was still hopeful to stop. 

"Genna! Genna! Are you up?" Bethany peered through the doorway, already dressed for the day. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, decorated with little white seed pearls. As usual, she looked lovely. "Mama is wanting for you," she announced, grinning. Genevieve, still holding the Marquis' letter, quickly spun around, hiding it behind her back. 

"Of course. I'll be down as soon as I'm decent," she said. 

Bethany narrowed her eyes playfully. "What is that behind your back, Genna? Is it from a boy? Is it a  _ love letter _ ?" 

Genevieve stuttered a reply, spinning around to keep the letter from her sister, but with no avail. Bethany's eyes eagerly drank up the words as her sister tried to snatch it back from her.

"Bethy, it's mine! Please--"

"Oh la la! Shakespeare, Genevieve? And in French? Have you gone and gotten yourself a beau while I wasn't looking?" Bethany waved the paper at Genevieve, who quickly snatched it back. 

"That was personal! You can't just go around reading others’ personal correspondence!" she chastised. 

Bethany smirked. "Oh, I should  _ bet _ it's personal." She fanned her face with one hand suggestively before asking, "Who is it? Have I met him? Are you in love?" 

Genevieve, now red-faced, huffed and pushed her sister out the open door. "Tell Mama I'll be down shortly!" 

"You can't keep it a secret forever!" she shouted before her sister shut the door in her face. 

Sliding down against the wood, Genevieve held the letter against her breast and smiled. Was she in love? She'd thought she'd been in love once before, but oh, how she'd been mistaken. Perhaps she'd have to wait and see.

After calling for Nora--a short, Irish girl with striking red hair and face full of freckles who, with Patty, worked in the Summerton household--Genevieve dressed. She was feeling a little wild, and so decided to wear a dress she'd long hidden in the back of her wardrobe. It was white with a striped pattern of dark brown leaves. The collar was incredibly low, framing her cleavage with a crimped white ribbon. Dark black bows had been sewed to the ends of the sleeves and the center of the collar. The skirt was large, fanning out from a small waist. She was sure Bethany would be ecstatic that she was wearing it. 

Thanking Nora for her assistance, Genevieve shifted her petticoats and made her way downstairs to where her mother was waiting. Missus Summerton sat stiffly in a large armchair, sewing what appeared to be another baby gown.

"Mother?" Genevieve asked, sitting down in the chair across from her. The woman looked up and smiled. 

"My dear! You look lovely! I don't believe I've seen you wear that dress before. Where did you get it?" she asked, setting her work across her lap.

Genevieve smoothed her skirts. "Madeline sent it to me last birthday as a gift. I'd forgotten about it!" The last part was a lie, but her mother did not know, and instead nodded her head approvingly. 

"It suits you. I'm glad you got dressed up. I need you to run into town with Patty to pick up some things." She then proceeded to rattle off a list of things, including: cloth, sugar, and some green thread. Genevieve nodded, taking the list from her, and heading towards the door. 

Patty was already waiting outside with a cart and the family's two small, chestnut horses, Libbie and Dwight. They stamped their hooves impatiently, and snorted when they saw her approach. 

"Good morning, Patty," Genevieve greeted, smiling at the girl, who gave her a wave. “Good morning, John.” John nodded at her in greeting. He was the gardener and valet for their family, and had been working for the Summertons since Genevieve was a baby.

 

The last two times she'd gone into town had been quite eventful, though Genevieve couldn't say she'd mind seeing Lafayette again. She knew she should be bashful after being so forward the night before, but she just felt tingly inside instead. He obviously felt at least a fraction of what she did, after sending her such a lovely flower and note. Her mind mulled over this for a while, before turning to Matthew and quickly growing sour. 

She sighed and looked out at the passing scenery, only to find that the pair had arrived in town already. They didn't live too far, but it seemed to Genevieve that that time had passed in a flash. 

"Miss?" Genevieve's attention was pulled to Patty. The curly haired girl was focused on the road.  "If you'd like to go off and have some fun, I wouldn't mind. The list isn't very long, and I had some thing of my own to pick up as well." 

"Oh, thank you, Patty! You're too kind to me. When shall I meet you?" Genevieve tucked a stray curl behind her ear and sat back in her seat.  She wouldn’t mind taking a walk around. Perhaps she'd run into a friend. 

"How does two o'clock sound?" Patty asked her, turning. Genevieve nodded. That was more than enough time. She didn't have a watch, but she estimated that was at least three hours of free time.

"It sounds perfect, thank you!"

Patty nodded."It's really no problem, miss." Genevieve grinned at her as John pulled the cart over so that they could exit. 

"We'll meet here, then?" She nodded before walking forward to tell John when to return. Genevieve didn't wait to watch their conversation, instead heading into the bustling streets of New York. 

 

It was warm out, the walkways wet, presumably from a rain in the early morning hours. Still, the sun was high in the sky, and there was not a cloud in sight. Genevieve walked at a leisurely pace,  peering in shop windows and watching the people that passed her by. 

"I beg your pardon, sir! That would be treason! The king would never allow the colonies to get that out of hand!"

Genevieve rounded a corner to come upon a small crowd of people gathered around a tall man standing on a crate. He was clutching a newspaper in his hands, looking thoroughly offended. 

"Yeah? Well, you and your king can go fuck yourselves!" 

As she made her way forward, the group parted a bit. Genevieve was in no way surprised to see Alexander Hamilton in front of the man on the crate, shoulders squared, and smirking. 

"Big words for a little man," she called out, the people's attention turning to her. The man holding the paper looked relieved, and Alexander raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite British  _ lapdog _ ." He crossed his arms, giving her his full attention and she blushed under his gaze. His eyes sparkled, as if she presented a challenge. If as an opponent or a conquest, though, she wasn’t sure. She suddenly regretted wearing such a wild dress.

Covering up her uncertainty, she left out a harsh laugh.  "Ha! At least I'm not some run-of-the-mill _ patriot _ lackey!"

He walked closer to her, and the man behind him began to speak again, drawing the crowd’s eyes away from them. "I can assure you, Genna, that I am not run of the mill." Before she could reply, his eyes glinted, and he continued, "If you don't believe  _ me _ , I know a plethora of women who would agree." 

Genevieve's eyes widened as she understood his meaning. "Excuse me! I am a lady! And don't call me 'Genna'." 

Alexander shrugged, looking apologetically amused. "As you wish, my lady." He reached forward, taking one of her hands in his own, and kissing her knuckles gently. 

She gasped. Her cheeks flushed, and she yanked her hands away, taking a step back. Of course, it was the practice for men to kiss ladies’ hands, but she had not expected him to. Genevieve swallowed, pulling at a curl that was hanging in front of her face. She then put her hands back down at her sides.

Alexander was watching her curiously. He had pushed his sleeves up to his elbows--presumably because of the heat--revealing tan, toned arms. Genevieve's eyes flicked away, and he reached out, brushing the curl behind her ear. 

Genevieve licked her lips, suddenly feeling parched. Still looking away from him, she pulled out her fan, waving her reddened cheeks. "It's rather hot out, isn't it?" she asked awkwardly.

Alexander snorted, and Genevieve narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you see, _my_ _lady_ ," He was leaning closer now--close enough she could feel his breath--one arm against the wall next to them. He looked languid and confident, and reminded her a bit of a cat she and her sisters had found as children, "I have to wonder if the weather is really what's making you hot."

 

Genevieve had kissed five men in her life. Her first kiss had been when she was six. Her father's business partner's family was over for dinner, and Genevieve and the son, Max, were fast friends. They had paraded around the house, pretending to be husband and wife when, right before dinner, Max has kissed Genevieve on the cheek and told her that one day they would get married for real. That would have been true, she suspected, if the whole family hadn't died in a fire but seven months later.

Genevieve's second kiss had been when she was fourteen. Madeline, Jeanette, and she had fancied themselves all grown up and headed into town all by themselves. A group of sailors had been there, and Madeline, ever the flirt, had enticed them into buying them cider. Of course, things were never that simple, and as payment they'd asked for a kiss from each girl. Jeanette had started to shout when one of the men neared her, Genevieve remembered, and ran off angrily. Genevieve had been wary after that, but Madeline was unphased. She'd leaned forward, a coy smile on her face, and kissed the man right on the lips. Genevieve had tried to copy her role model, albeit rather uncertainly. It's hadn't been bad. The man had patted her head afterwards, but his stubble made her face itch. She remembered the feeling of suddenly wanting cry."Maddy, I want to go now. We need to find Jeanette." Her sister had shaken her head stubbornly, chocolate curls bouncing. 

"Don't be a baby. No one is hurting you, Genna." The men had seemed to multiply and Genevieve was suddenly overwhelmed. The stubbly one had asked her for another kiss, and Genevieve began to beg Madeline to go. Her older sister had just rolled her eyes and said something else. She couldn't remember what it was anymore, only that she'd turned tail and left, tears streaming down her face. 

When she and Jeanette had arrived home, they’d told their mother what happened. Madeline’s already approaching wedding date was hasted forward by two months.

Her third kiss had been when she was sixteen, with Matthew. It had seemed rather nice at first, but suddenly she felt like was drowning. She didn't stop him though. She didn't want him to think any less of her.

The fourth had been only a day earlier, with Lafayette. It had been special and sweet and hopeful. She had had control over the situation, and she’d known she could stop it at any time. She hadn't felt like she was drowning. Instead she'd felt like she could fly. 

 

The kiss--kisses--she was sharing with Alexander were nothing like that. They were passionate and fierce, and she could feel a fire spreading up her spine. It was like an argument, both of them scrambling for the upper hand. Like it was Lafayette,--though she had no thought of him in the moment--she knew if she wished to stop, Alexander would allow her. She did not want to stop. She wanted him to take her somewhere else, to make her forget about her troubles. He was quite handsome, and, as she had just discovered, an incredible kisser. 

"I suppose I have my answer, then," he muttered to her, his hands in her hair. They were in his room. It was small, fitting only a small bed and a desk. The desk was covered completely in papers, an old looking quill drying out on top. Books were stacked around the corners, and everything was rather dusty. 

Apparently, he'd been going out to the library when he'd come across the loyalist he’d been fighting when she arrived. Genevieve knew she should be ashamed of herself, but as she felt his lips on her neck, she could not care less. It was exhilarating just to ignore the rules and let herself be free. She wondered if this was what Madeline had been seeking from those sailors. 

"Answer to--to what?" She groaned, her hands seeking the buttons on his shirt. 

"The question I asked when I first met you."

It took her a second to focus enough to remember, but when she did, she yanked back. "You ass!"

He laughed and she pummeled his chest. It was too light to hurt him, but he caught her wrists anyways, using his weight to pin her to the bed. "I suppose you  _ do _ open you mouth a  _ bit  _ more..."

She yanked her hand from his grip and shoved him. "No more than you do, you stupid donkey!"

He snorted but then his hands were in her hair again, and she was finally able to finish with the buttons and soon both of them were in an indecent state and there wasn't much conversation going on any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this you don't understand. I get the feeling probably not all of you appreciated it as much as me though...haha. Genevieve is getting around, huh? I hope you were able to enjoy it at least a little bit though. Also, another tidbit about Genevieve's past? Whoa? Anyways, sorry for any historical inaccuracies here. I could not find out where Hamilton lived at this point, whether at school or nearby, so I did what fit the story best. Look out for a new update shortly!  
> \-----------  
> Summary:  
> Genevieve wakes up having received a love letter from Lafayette. She then heads into town with Patty to run some errands, but Patty offers to let Genevieve do her own thing as long as she returns by 3:00. Genevieve runs in none of than Alexander Hamilton, and they proceed to flirt a lot and then the chapter ends with them hooking up. We also find out about every kiss Genevieve ever shared (5). One when she was six with her father's friend's son, one when she was 14 with a sailor (she didn't want to do it and was very upset afterwards), one with Matthew when she was 16 (She didn't want to this either, but didn't tell him no because she didn't want him to think less of her), one with Lafayette, and now with Alexander. 
> 
> \--------  
> Lafayette's Note:  
> "O she doth teach the torches to burn bright!  
> It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night  
> As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear -  
> Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!  
> So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,  
> As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows."
> 
> I cannot stop thinking about you, my dove  
> -Marquis de Lafayette
> 
> -ACT I Scene 5 [Romeo and Juliet]-


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marquis reveals his full name.

**August 23, 1774**

 

“Genevieve Summerton, don’t you dare move! Don’t. You. Dare. You stay right where you are!” Bethany stood in the doorway, a hand on her hip. Her hair had begun to topple from its bun, but she hadn’t noticed yet, engrossed in her task. And that task was Genevieve.

“Bethany, I can get myself ready. I am grateful, but I really don’t need…” Her sister came back into her room, Genevieve’s white and brown frock in her hands. 

“This will have to do. Goodness, one of these days I must get to fixing your wardrobe.” Bethany fluffed out the dress, looking at it. Her brow furrowed. “How on earth did you crush the bows like that? When have you even worn this?” Genevieve abruptly looked down at her hands, very interested in the state of her nails. Blush had spread across her cheeks as she remembered  _ that _ afternoon, barely a month prior. 

She’d left his house at 2:30. He’d helped her get dressed and offered to walk with her, but she declined. Surely Patty would know what had happened, seeing Genevieve arrive with a handsome man, hair ascue and red-faced. Alexander respected her wishes, and she had arrived at the designated spot only a minute later than agreed. Patty didn’t comment of her state of dress, and Genevieve didn’t volunteer any information. They rode home in silence.

The rest of the rest of the day had been uneventful, and no one asked Genevieve why she changed when she got home. She’d felt fine, aside from being a bit worn out, but the next morning, oh the next morning! She’d gotten out of bed as usual, only to find her legs sore and wobbly, and a large bruise forming on her neck. She’d forgotten how taxing being with a man was.

“Miss? Are you alright?” Nora had asked her carefully. 

Genevieve sighed. “I’m fine. Can you find me a dress with a high collar? ” 

Smiling knowingly, Nora walked over to the wardrobe, shifting through Genevieve’s frocks. “Quite an unfortunate place to get a bruise,” she commented lightly, pulling out a pale pink dress from the lot. 

Genevieve blushed. “Ah….yes.”

“Don’t fret, miss. I won’t tell. Besides, I think it’s healthy for girls to have a bit of fun,” Nora said, laying dress out beside Genevieve’s face turned redder. She stood up, allowing Nora to pull a corset around her waist. “Thank you for being so...understanding.”

Nora nodded, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble. Now tell me, is he handsome? And is he a good kisser?” She pulled out some hoops and a petticoat, holding them up. 

Genevieve couldn’t help but smile, covering her mouth with one hand. Nora hit her on the arm. “He is, isn’t he! Ha, I knew it! Tell me about it, come on!”

“Well, he is quite handsome. I mean, he was really wonderful, but… I don’t think it will happen again.” Genevieve glanced around furtively and then, and then whispered, “He’s a patriot.”

Nora squealed and yanked on corset laces. Genevieve yelped, surprised, and then let out a slow breath, adjusting to the sudden constriction around her midriff. She hadn’t been expecting it.

“But, miss, that makes it even more exciting, doesn’t it? Forbidden love and what not? A rich girl from a well-to-do family, and a rebel trying to win her hand?

Genevieve shook her head. “No, I think he has bigger aspirations than marriage.” 

The maid huffed and shook her head.

“Also, he’s rather short,” Genevieve added as an afterthought.

“Well, I’ve known some short men in my life, and let me tell you, what they lack in height, they make up for in--” There was a knock at the door. “Yes?”

“The Master would like to speak to Miss Genevieve as soon as she is dressed. He is waiting in his office,” Patty called. 

“Thank you. I’ll be down soon,” Genevieve called back. Nora helped her step into her hoops, and then pulled the frock over her arms, buttoning it up the back.

“Well, Miss, if you ever need any advice on anything, you can talk to me, alright?” She patted her arm. “Spin around for me then.” The maid admired her handwork. “And there you go, pretty as a doll.”

“Thank you, Nora.”

“Don’t worry about anything. Now, if anything new happens, don’t forget to tell me. Us maid live for gossip, and don’t you forget it!” Genevieve giggled, and Nora grinned, tucking a red curl behind her ear. “Now, you best be getting down stairs before someone starts to miss you.”

~~~

The letter her father had received was from Lafayette, much to Genevieve’s surprise. He had invite Genevieve and Jeanette to accompany him and his friend, John Laurens, to the theater in about a month. 

“I think this is a perfect opportunity. Jeanette, you will chaperone your sister. I think that it will be good for you both to get out a bit more.” Jeanette was less than thrilled with the idea and Genevieve had never felt guiltier in her life.

And now she was here.

“ _ Now  _ you can move! I need to put this dress on you--Well, hurry up now! I have to get Jeanette ready as well!” Genevieve sighed, but allowed her sister to pull the frock over her head.  “Why you don’t get more dresses, I will never understand. There. Stand up.” Genevieve did and Bethany fiddled with a few on the bows before nodding approvingly. “Wear your white gloves. I’ll have Patty bring you a hat,” she instructed, heading towards the door. “I suppose she’ll do your hair as well...hm.” She continued to mutter to herself as she disappeared down the hall to find Jeanette, who’d been sleeping in one of the guest rooms since she’d become engaged. Their mother had said she needed to learn to be more independent before the wedding came, and so she was no longer to share a room with Genevieve. She’d been quite depressed by the idea.

After Patty had done what Bethany had asked, Genevieve spun around, looking at herself in the mirror. Unsurprisingly, she looked amazing. Bethany's fashion expertise had not failed her yet. Heading downstairs, she chose to wait in the sitting room for her sister, who was surely dressed as beautifully as Genevieve. 

"You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman," Mr. Summerton said, upon entering the room. 

Genevieve smiled politely. “Thank you, Papa. Bethany can really work magic.”

Her father shook his head. “Your sister is very talented, but you are getting more beautiful each day. I’m surprised no one has tried to snatch you up already.” 

"Papa, please," Genevieve, twisted her hands uncomfortably, “you flatter me, but I know I’m rather plain.” She had always felt all her sisters were much prettier than her. Angelina was naturally plump, with curlier hair, and dainty feet. Madeline was the curviest, with big eyes and toned arms and legs. Jeanette was willowy and slender, and Bethany took after Madeline, but with lighter hair. Michelyne look just like their mother, with light hair and a round face. Genevieve was plain by comparison, with straight hair and a plainer sense of style. 

Her father shook his head. “Out of all of your sister’s, you’ve always had the sweetest temperament. I have no doubt that one day you will make a wonderful wife,” he told her, sitting down beside her. " It’s Jeanette that I really worry about. You’ll watch over your sister, won’t you? I’m nervous she’ll...do something rash."

"Of course, Papa. I’m sure Jeanette will be fine. She’s just nervous about her wedding, is all." That was not all, but now was not the time for that conversation.  

“Thank you, my dear. Now, you’ll behave yourself too, won’t you? The last thing this family needs is a scandal.”

Genevieve sniffed in annoyance. “Papa! Marquis de Lafayette and Mister Laurens are perfect gentlemen, I assure you! They would never-- _ I  _ would never! Nothing untoward!” Of course that wasn’t  _ exactly  _ true, but he didn’t need to know that. “Besides, you don’t even know if he’s interested in me that way!”

"I must disagree!" he tutted. "This 'Lafayette' made his intentions quite clear in his letter."

This was news to Genevieve, but before she could ask him about it, there was a knock on the door. It swung open, in entering Jeanette, Nora, and Lafayette himself. Genevieve got to her feet quickly, her heart in her throat. He father followed suit.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear!" Mr. Summerton laughed and held out a hand. “I’m Sir Charles Summerton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Lafayette shook it, looking rather bashful. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, sir.” He turned to Genevieve. “Miss Summerton." He nodded at her, and she ducked her head, accidently catching Nora’s eye. 

“You said he was short!” she whispered, and Genevieve blushed scarlet, her stomach erupting with butterflies.

"I see you already met my other daughter," Mr. Summerton pointed out. 

"I ran into him in the hall," Jeanette said simply, her tone sharp. Mister Summerton opened his mouth, seemed to have a quick, internal debate, and closed it again, leaving Jeanette be.

“I expect both my daughters home before dark.” He looked stern, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Genevieve hadn’t seen him this happy since he’d found out her mother was expecting again. 

“We’ll be back,” she assured him, kissing him on the cheek. “We’ll come home after the  show.”

Lafayette opened the door. “After you, ladies,” he said with a smile. Genevieve forced herself to smile back and walked out into the warm sun. She blinked rapidly, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Jeanette joined her, not acknowledging her father on the way out. Mr. Summerton’s lips thinned, but he didn’t say anything, turning instead to the Marquis. 

“Thank you for extending this invitation to my daughters. I do hope you enjoy the show,” he said earnestly. 

“Thank  _ you,  _ for allowing me the pleasure of escorting them, monsieur.”

And then they were on their way. 

 

The ride wasn’t too long, but it was very awkward. Aside from their first meeting, she hadn’t felt nervous around Lafayette at all. But now...she couldn’t think of anything to say, her foot tapping as they sat, conversationless.

It was Jeanette who finally broke the silence.

“Thank you for thinking of us, sir,” she said, clasping her hands.

Lafayette blinked, having been lost in thought. “Hm? _ Je suis désolé, mademoiselle _ , but could you repeat that please?” _ ⑴ _

Jeanette smiled.  _ “J’ai dit: Merci beaucoup pour pense à mon soeur et moi, monsieur. _ ” Sensing his confusion, she gestured vaguely, searching for the words. “ _ Uh… pour de la _ ...Theater.”⑵

“ _ Le théâtre _ ,” Genevieve corrected instantly. It had become habit by now.

Lafayette smiled now. “I am honored you were able to come.” He paused. “Your French is very good,  _ pour anglais dame _ .”

Jeanette shook her head, laughing lightly. “Thank you, but Genevieve is the real French protégé of the family.”

“Your sister is very good, but you must not put yourself down. It is not fitting of a lady of your caliber,” Lafayette said, patting her gloved hand earnestly. 

Shaking her head dismissively, she said, “Well, I can speak German as fluently as I do English, so let my baby sister can have her moment of mediocre French.”

Genevieve grinned and stuck out her tongue, all in good fun. Lafayette looked at her and she felt the butterflies reappear in her stomach. She turned away, looking out the window.

The polite conversation continued on, mostly between Lafayette and Jeanette, Genevieve laughing along with them. She found though, that she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I heard from Monsieur Hamilton that the two of you met again a few weeks ago.” 

Jeanette glanced at Genevieve in surprise, and Genevieve felt her stomach sink down into  her shoes. Did Lafayette  _ know _ ? Did he think she was some kind of fallen woman? Had Alexander told him? 

She chuckled nervously, face white. “Yes, I found him arguing with a loyalist writer.”

Lafayette smiled. “That does sound like him.” The conversation went on from there, but Genevieve felt she couldn’t get comfortable now. Her mind was racing as she looked at the attractive man beside her and wondered what the future would hold.

The theater was beautiful. Elegant architecture and artful decoration--it was a true wonder. Genevieve had not been before, but both Angelina and Madeline had raved about it, once upon a time. It was as shining and shimmering, as colorful and loud as she’d been told.

“We have box seats tonight--”

“Oh, how lovely,” Jeanette interrupted. She, like Genevieve, was impressed by the splendor of the theater. 

Lafayette coughed. “Well, the boxes here only seat two, so I’m afraid we won’t all be able to sit together.” Genevieve felt the butterflies began to flutter madly. “The boxes are besides each other, but--”

“Well, if you planned for Genevieve and I to just by ourselves in the first place, why did you invite us?” Jeanette had a malicious gleam in her eye, and a hand on her hip.

“I thought that perhaps Genevieve would...ah... _ accompagner...Quel est le terme?  _ Ah! I thought perhaps Genevieve would accompany me tonight, if she agrees.” He looked a bit sheepish.⑶

“So! You want to split her and her chaperone? You scoundrel. I will not allow--”

“Nettie, stop teasing him!” Genevieve chided her sister, who laughed.

“Of course. It’s all in good fun, monsieur.”

Lafayette smiled, still a bit confused.

“So, where is this Mr. Laurens, then? If we’re to be spending an intimate night together, I think I should like to be introduced to him. 

 

John was waiting for them in the box, a drink in hand. When they entered, he got his feet, grinning. “Lafayette, my friend!” The two of them shook hands, before the young man turned to the ladies. “And the Summertons! Miss Genevieve, nice too see you again.” He kissed her hand, and then bowed to Jeanette. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

“And yours as well, Ssr.” Jeanette curtsied.

“I’ve been informed we’ll be spending something of a romantic afternoon with one another, so I’m glad you’re are charming as Genevieve described.” Flattered, but a bit betrayed, the older girl looked at her sister. 

“I’m sorry sir, I wish I could say the same, but…”

Laurens clutched his chest in fake despair. “Genevieve? I thought we were friends!” 

Genevieve laughed. “I’m sorry, but you never did come up in conversation. Jeanette’s been very busy with her own affairs as well.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “And what affairs would those be?”

The smile slid from Jeanette’s face. “My affairs are none of your business,” she said angrily, sitting down with a thump. She stared out at the stage silently and Laurens winced at Genevieve. 

“I’m sorry. If I promise not to bring it up again. Will you have a drink with me? It’s just cider.” He lifted the bottle like a peace offering.

Jeanette glared at it a moment, and then sighed. “Deal.” 

Deciding now was as good a time as ever, Genevieve nodded at Lafayette, and the two of them took their leave. By the time they reached their own box, which was nearby, the lights were already beginning to dim.

“Oh, hurry or we’ll miss the curtain!” Genevieve fretted, hastening to pull back the curtains of their own, which were currently closing off the box from the rest of the theater. 

Lafayette grasped her hand.

“Monsieur--” Her words were cut off  as he pressed his lips against hers. Outside she could hear the orchestra beginning to play and a murmur from the audience, but she didn’t care, leaning into him until she finally had to pull away to breath. “Sir---why--what has--”

“ _ Tu m’as manqué _ . Why didn’t you respond to my letters?” he asked, hands on her arms. ⑷ 

She glanced at the ground guiltily, thinking of Alexander. “I’ve been...busy. My mother is almost due--Angelina as well-- and now that Jeanette is getting married, I’ve just been spread too thin.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, staring into her eyes. Then he kissed her again and she was more than happy to oblige. 

 

“You know, monsieur, this is quite scandalous behavior to be engaged in with a woman who doesn’t even know your full name,” she whispered, giggling. The music outside had quieted now, and she did not want to disturb anyone. 

Lafayette chuckled. “It’s quite an un…What’s the word?  _ Malheureux… Malheureux…. _ Un….Unfortunate. It’s an unfortunate name, I think.”

Genevieve cocked her head. They were sitting down now, though the curtains were still closed, the box lit only with one dim kerosene lamp. “I’ll tell you my full name, if it helps. Genevieve Anne Summerton. It’s not very exciting.”

Lafayette smiled, and Genevieve felt herself melt. “ _ Je pense c’est très belle. _ ”

“ _ Merci _ . Now, will you tell me yours?” she asked him sweetly, clasping her hands. ⑸

He sighed. “I do not think that I could say no to you even if I wanted. My full name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de la Fayette.”*

Genevieve blinked. “Oh my...that is…” Quite unfortunate is what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want him to think she was rude. Instead she finished, “Very regal sounding.”

He laughed. “It is unfortunate, no? It’s not my fault. I was baptized like a Spaniard, with the name of every conceivable saint who might offer me more protection in battle. My family is known for being brave soldiers.”**

“Oh, did your father teach you how to fight?” Genevieve asked him. She was curious about him, and his life before he’d come to the colonies. She knew almost nothing.

His face fell. “My father died when I was young. I don’t remember him very well, but he was a brave man.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Genevieve rushed, feeling terrible she’d brought it up.

Lafayette shook his head. “No matter. Mon grandmère took care of me. She was a good woman.”

Genevieve put her hand on top of his. “If I ever meet her, I’ll tell her that she raised quite a gentleman.”

~~~

They did end up watching some of the play. It was long and full of tragedy. 

They met Jeanette and Laurens outside, after it was finished. Jeanette looked like she’d been crying, and Laurens had a hand on her arm protectively. She gave him a sporting smile, and curtsied, before stepping next to her sister. 

“Thank you for an enjoyable afternoon, sir,” she said, and then promised to write.

The ride him was much more relaxed than the ride there. The conversation was animated, and Lafayette and Genevieve shared looks when they thought that Jeanette wasn’t looking.

Both sister’s arrived home, laughing, their cheeks glowing in the evening light. Before they could even enter the house though, Patty threw open the door, face, her hair tied back into a bun. 

“Thank goodness you’re back! The Mistress is in labor. You’re father went to fetch the doctor, but I don’t know if he’ll be fast enough. Change your clothes and come to your mother’s room. Genevieve, bring some boiling water from the kitchen and Jeanette--”

“I’ll get some towels.”

The sisters glanced at each other, and then dashed inside after Patty.

 

________________________

Translations:  
(1): “I’m sorry miss, but I don’t understand.”  
(2): “I said: Thank you for thinking of my sister and me, Sir….uh...for the...theater.”

(3): “Accompany...What is the word? “  
(4): “I’ve missed you.”  
(5): “I think it’s beautiful.”  
*I read that in france his name was usually split into two words (From Lafayette to La Fayette), and I might be wrong, I didn’t really research it as much as I should’ve because I wanted to get the chapter finished already  
**”It’s not...battle,” This is an actually quote from Lafayette.  
Source: http: //www.history.com/news/10-things-you-may-not-know-about-the-marquis-de-lafayette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Um OC stands for original character. You know that right? Well there's another story with the same main character shipped with Lafayette. Maybe you should change the OC part in your summary to TC. (TAKEN character) :/"  
> So, I literally had no idea what this review meant, but I did some checking around and it turns out that different author on ff.nt made a fanfiction called Soldier that is also Genevieve/Lafayette. They published it about three months after I published Mon Amour. Their character’s name is Genevieve Allcott, and it is a very good fic. It is in no way connected to mine. I am a little disappointed I got a comment like this and I hope to God that they didn’t get any rude comments from my readers! [Edit: This guest actually apologized to me which was super cool and mature of them, so no hard feelings. :D] I know what oc means, and both our character’s are our own separate ideas. It’s a pretty funny coincidence that we happened to choose the same name, but Genevieve isn’t a super rare name to begin with. Anyways, I just wanted to make that clear to everyone to prevent any further confusion!  
> _____________________  
> The name of the play they went to see is Clavigo. Sorry I took so long to update. Love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is different the normal style. It relies a lot on effects (italics, strike through, what-not) and they refused to copy-paste from my doc, so I had to go back and redo all the effects here, which was super annoying and time consuming. I may have missed some things, so I'm sorry about that. If a word doesn't make sense, assume I meant to cross it out. Hope you enjoy!

 

_ August 24, 1774 _

_ Mon Cher; _

_ I cannot erase you from my head. ~~I~~ _ ~~_ t is cr _ ~~ _ C’est de la folie(1) _ _. Often I sleep, I dream of you. You have monopolize my thoughts and my head. Because I cannot be with you every minute of day, I suppose that I must be happy with your letters alone. Still, I have to see you again. I hang on to the hope that you will grant my with and keep me from madness. There is going to be une fête ( _ _ 2) _ _ in the city. A group? I do not know the word, but it is going to be quite fun. If you could join me, I would be overjoyed. Our friend Laurens is going to be there, as will Mulligan--the two of you have met before, je pense? If you feel more comfortable with a chaperone, I am sure Monsieur Laurens would feel happy to see Mademoiselle Jeanette. They seem to get along very well at the play. _

_ Speaking of the play, I have to thank you once again for joining me. It was the most  _ ~~_ happy _ ~~ _ enjoyable evening I have had in awhile. Sometime, I would like to see another show with you. _

_ Your humble servant, _

_ Gilbert du Motier, Le Marquis de la Fayette _

  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  


August 30, 1774

Dear Lafayette;

Thank you for the heartfelt letter. I too enjoyed our time together at the play, and would quite like to accompany you to this revel. My father would never approve, of course, but I am willing to disobey him for the sake of our friendship. I should think I will need the name of the establishment at which the party is set to be held, along with date and time, though. 

I’ve been very busy at home. There are three new babies in the family, can you believe? I now have a healthy little brother, Samuel, and a niece and a nephew named Dahlia and Charles. They are a bit small, but I’ve been told that twins often are. We’re all so happy. Even Jeanette cannot help but smile when they gurgle and wave their little, chubby fingers at her. Wedding preparations are underway now, and I believe that she and Mr. Cabbot can find some way to get along. They must, I suppose. As long as he continues to live nearby, I’m sure she’ll be home just as much as she isn’t, so perhaps it will seem like not much has changed at all. Is it silly of me to wish that things could stay as they are? I feel like I am standing in front of a big storm somehow, but I cannot stop it. Forgive me; I’m rambling. 

How have you been? I’m flattered that you hold me in such high esteem, and while you have not been on my mind every waking minute, I have thought of you often. It is nice to have someone who connects me to the world outside my small sphere of influence. I believe I feel more cultured just knowing you!

Sincerely yours, 

Genevieve Summerton

P.S.

I fear I forgot to inform you: We’re going out of town for Jeanette’s wedding. Myrtlewood Manor, if you want to reach me. James’ Grandmother lives there, down in South Carolina so we’ll be having the wedding on her property. She insists. My mother, Angelina, and Michelynne are going to stay behind with the babies. There was talk of it being delayed--granted, it was chiefly from Jeanette-- but her future mother in-law insisted. Something about lucky summer weddings; I’m not sure. My father doesn’t want to leave his son any longer than he has to, so he’s heading home after the wedding. Me, Bethany, and one of the servants will be staying the longest: three weeks. Something about catching good southern husbands. I think not! I’ve been told it’s beautiful there, but I’d rather be at home. I’m a city girl at heart. Jeanette needs me more than ever, though, so I dare not argue. 

In case my replies to your letters come a bit slowly, which I’m sure they will, do not fret. I’ll be back in our beloved New York before you know it.

Once again, yours, 

Genevieve Summerton

 

* * *

 

  
  


August 30, 1774

Dear Mr. Laurens;

I owe you my thanks for accompanying my sister and I to the play. Life has been quite busy since then, so I must apologize for not having written sooner. My mother and Angelina have both have delivered their babies: Papa is now the proud father of a little boy named Samuel. My sister had a son as well, plus one unexpected extra. Their names are Charles and Dahlia, and I have a feeling that all three little ones will grow up to be the best of friends.

Speaking of friends, I’m sure that if you have not already, you will soon receive a letter from Jeanette. You seem to have made quite an impression on her. I’m glad. She doesn’t open up very easily, so she’s always been a bit lonely. I’m glad to see her branching out. While her affairs are not mine to disclose, I do believe having a confidant may do her a great deal of good, especially with her wedding quickly approaching. We’ve only just found out, but the ceremony is going to be in South Carolina. I’ll spare you the details; just know that the blushing bride-to-be is less than thrilled.

Thank you again,

Genevieve Summerton

 

* * *

 

  
  


August 31, 1774

Dearest Madelyn;

Are you sure that your husband and you will not come home for Jeanette’s wedding? I’m sure mother has written you of the location change; it’s supposed to be beautiful. And it would mean the world to Jeanette--and all of us--if you could make it. We miss you here and I think the house seems quite empty without you. The apple blossoms are in bloom again, and I can’t help but recall when the two of us would play underneath those very trees.

The new babies are adorable, but hardly any of us have slept in days! Oh, you would hate it. Do you remember when Michelyne was born? I swear, you were out of the house more days than you were in it. Perhaps you’ve changed your mind on children now. I’ve been told that marriage settles a soul, although I really cannot imagine anything settling you. 

Anyway, I do wish I could see you again. There has been much going on, and it would be so much easier if you were here for me to talk to. I think I shall write you about it in my next letter. Pray I find the time! I’m sure you’ll be quite thrilled by the adventures I’ve been having, though I doubt they compare to anything that you used to get up to.

As always, Sister, you are in my thoughts and prayers, 

Your sister, Genevieve. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ September 1, 1774 _

_ My friend; _

_ In reply to your last letter: while I am moved by the thorough review of your heart's deepest desire, I wonder if you are not, perhaps, passing too hasty a judgement. Are you certain that you can trust Miss Summerton with something as intimate and as important as your affection? You have known her less than a season. Is she not a loyalist? Have you wondered if she is not some type of intelligencer, a seductress disguised as a pleasant Englishman’s daughter. You have no proof of her faithfulness to you, and yet you claim that to her your heart is fully devoted? And really, how is it that a privileged, English-loving woman understand  _ you?  _ I know you are inexperienced with the fairer sex; you’ve let her get too close to you, my friend. I am afraid that she may steal past your defenses like Judith did Holofernes. I am scared that this could end in your ruin. _

_ I understand, of course, the call of a woman. In the throws of passion once can come to rash conclusions. I am not suggesting that you abandon your hopes completely, just wait longer before making any final decisions, I beseech you. She’s nineteen and not yet engaged; it’s not as though you have much competition to watch for and with time, I believe her true loyalties will surely be revealed.  _

_ On the topic of loyalty, Laurens informed me that you have invited Miss Summerton to the patriot revel. Maybe it is not her I should be worried about, but you, who is bending to every whimsy your heart desires. A party may be of no consequence, but what of next time? What of when it’s something more? Shall she be invited to come prancing along with us then? Can we trust her to keep her silence? Can we trust  _ you _?  _

_ In future, I advise you to be more careful with your words and actions. _

_ Your obedient servant, A. Ham _

 

* * *

 

 

_ September 2, 1774 _

_ Mon Cher; _

_ I am so foolish. This time I attach a paper with the date and the time inside the envelope. I am overjoyed that you have decided to join me, though if it will put you on bad terms with your father, I not think to ask this of you. You are a smart young woman, though; I will  leave it up to you. Still, I cannot not  _ ~~_ by _ ~~ _ be excited at the idea of to see you again. My head warns me of the danger of this, my adoration, but my heart ignores it. I think that you have hypnotised me, mon cher, with the strange English ways, and I will not so easily forget you. If you do not return my feelings though, I will not try and convince you, I will simply simmer in mon peine de cœualone( _ _ 3) _ _. I do not want you to feel uncomfortable, of course, but if I keep this inside I am sure I will explode. _

_ If I have not scared you off, ma lionne, I anticipate your reply, and cannot wait to see you again. _

_ Your humble servant, _

_ Marquis de La Fayette _

 

* * *

 

 

September 5, 1774

Dear Lafayette; 

Thank you for your kind letter. I do believe you’ll have to try harder yet if you wish to scare me away. Besides, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He’s plenty busy with Samuel, anyway. The poor babe is colicky, I do believe. The whole family has been up at all hours for him. Michelynne has been a true angel; somehow she can get him to stop crying when no one else can. Speaking of crying, I believe it is my turn to comfort him now. We are leaving for South Carolina tomorrow, and I doubt I will be able to reply to any letters in the next week, what with the wedding preparations. Do not fret; I will see you at the party. 

Your friend,

Genevieve Summerton

* * *

 

 

_ September 10, 1774 _

_ Genevieve;  _

_ I am glad you are doing well, sister. I’m sorry, but I am afraid that Geoffrey and I must decline your invitation. He has decided it will not be ‘appropriate’ for me to travel in my current state. You see, I’ve only just found out, but it seems the family is going to grow larger by one more. Geoffrey is happy--he was beginning to wonder if perhaps there was something wrong with me.  _

_ Please tell Angelina congratulations on the twins, and Jeanette on her wedding. Mama and Papa should be receiving a letter as well, along with a trinket for the new baby. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you. _

_ Madelyn  _

 

* * *

 

 

_ September 15, 1774 _

_ Miss Summerton; _

_ By the time you get this letter, I assume that title will no longer be right. I heard from your sister that you’re getting married this month.  _

_ I’m sorry. I think, like me, your interests lie elsewhere. I know this is rather abrupt, but if I don’t write before I lose my nerve, I never will. Your  _ ~~_ finance _ ~~ _ husband doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who will be  _ ~~_kind_ _good_ _faithful_~~ _ responsible in married life. Forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds, but if there comes a time in which you need a place to stay, please know that you will be welcome in my family’s home. I apologize if that was inappropriate of me, and I am sorry for all the mistakes in my letter. My writing has never been as good as my friends. _

_ Your servant,  _

_ John Laurens _

 

* * *

 

 

September 20, 1774

Dear Lafayette;

How are things in the city? Things here are slow; it’s so hot I think even the trees are sweating. The wedding was beautiful, though. Jeanette’s gown turned out lovely; Bethany is very proud of it. Everything was still in bloom outside, and the chapel was lovely. The wedding was larger than my sister would have prefered, I think. She’s always been reserved. The new couple received many beautiful gifts, though, for when they return to New York. Until then, we’re free to walk the plantation. During the day it’s much too hot for any exploring. James’ cousins are going to show Bethany and me a good place to go swimming this afternoon, when the heat is too unbearable. They invited Jeanette as well, but she won’t leave her room. I feel badly for her, I can’t imagine what she is going through. I’ve  ~~ brung ~~ brought her all the books I was able, and I’m sure she’s already finished most of them

Anyways, I hope things are going well back home. I quite miss the city, and I can’t wait to return. There is only a week left of my time here, but somehow it still seems so long. Goodness, it’s hot. I fear the ink is going to melt off the page! But I’m rambling. I eagerly await your reply.

Sincerely,

Genevieve Summerton

 

* * *

 

_ September 15, 1774 _

_ Dear sir; _

_ I believe it would be more beneficial to talk in person. If it would suit you, perhaps you would consider meeting me next time you are in the city.  _

_ Your Obedient Servant, _

_ Matthew Daniels _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judith and Holofernes are from the Book of Judith in the bible. Judith, a hot widow, is annoyed at how cowardly her country men of Israel are being, so she goes out and seduces Holofernes, the Assyrian general in charge of attacking the jews. Then she takes him in his tent, implying that they will have sex, and cuts off his head. She brings it back to her city and stays awesome, strong, and single until she dies. It’s a great story, and she is a literal feminist icon.
> 
> Translation:  
> 1 C’est de la folie- It is madness   
> 2 une fête- a party  
> 3 mon peine de cœualone- my heartbreak/ my pain of heart


End file.
